Harry Potter Feast Table

At the dinner table, my mother-in-law slid a contract across to me, right in front of more than 20 relatives. "Just sign it," she said lightly. "Consider it a favor to me." I looked down. A home mortgage agreement for 150,000 dollars. Across from me, my husband's younger brother, Jim Canfield, watched with a grin. Beside him, my husband's eldest sister, Cindy Canfield, urged impatiently, saying, "Shirley, what are you waiting for? Just sign it." I said I needed to go home and talk it over with Howard Canfield first. My mother-in-law's expression darkened. "What? You can't even make this decision for your own marriage?" That night, I did not sign anything. Later, she sent a three-minute voice message in the family group chat, accusing me of being childish, ungrateful, and heartless. More than 70 replies followed—not a single one in my defense. A month later, I came home from work to find three men waiting at my door, there to seize the house. I pulled out my phone and checked the property registry. The record was clear. [Mortgaged. 150,000 dollars.]

My daughter was violated and killed, yet her death was ruled a suicide. After seven failed appeals, I kidnapped the chief prosecutor’s daughter. I tied the chief prosecutor’s daughter to an autopsy table and publicly addressed the prosecutor’s office in a live stream. “I performed the autopsy myself. My daughter didn’t kill herself. She was murdered. “I’ll give you seven chances. Release the actual evidence and name the murderer publicly. Each time a chance runs out, I’ll remove one of her body parts.” The chief prosecutor and his wife knelt on the floor. They begged me desperately to spare their daughter. “The evidence proves your daughter took her own life. Stop this madness now and let my daughter go. She’s innocent.” Viewers in the live stream called me insane. They said I had lost my mind with grief and was taking it out on an innocent person. I ignored their contempt. With a sneer, I picked up a scalpel and pressed it against the judge’s daughter’s abdomen. “The clock is ticking. Hurry up and reveal the true murderer now.” I knew perfectly well the real murderer was watching the stream at that very moment.

“I don't make mistakes," he told her. "And I certainly don't pay for them twice." Five years ago, Elena Hart made the ultimate mistake. She fell for her cold, untouchable boss, billionaire heir Adrian Voss. When a reckless night left her pregnant, she expected the truth to mean something. Instead, he accused her of extortion, used his wealth to erase the problem, and left her with nothing. Elena vanished to protect her unborn child. Adrian kept his pristine reputation and his empire, confident he had buried a nuisance forever. He was wrong. Five years later, Adrian is desperate. His company is crumbling, and his only salvation lies in the hands of a mysterious new majority shareholder. He walks into the boardroom ready to negotiate for his legacy. But the woman waiting at the head of the table isn't a stranger. She is the woman he threw away. She is wealthy, ruthless, and holding his entire world in the palm of her hand. Adrian thought he could buy her silence. Now, she is going to make him pay. But with a five-year-old secret caught in the crossfire, will Elena crush the man who broke her, or will the truth change the rules of the game?

On the night of our eighth anniversary, I cooked everything Ethan loved. He didn't come home. I sat alone at the table until the food went cold. Then I did what I always did. I opened Selene's profile on the pack network. New post. One hour ago. A photo of Ethan, shirtless, building a fire in her den. Her hand on his shoulder. Her face turned toward the camera with a smile that showed too many teeth. The caption read: Grateful for old friends who drop everything when you need them. Even their marking anniversaries. I stared at it until my eyes burned. Then I liked it. Filed the bond-dissolution request. And started packing the trunk I'd kept ready for months. Ethan didn't believe it when he found out. "She's throwing a fit," I heard he told his packmates. "Give her three days." "I'll crook my finger and she'll come running back." "She always does." What he didn't understand was why I always came back. It was because I loved him. That was gone now.

My husband, Garrett Kachmar, vanished overseas with his ex, Linda Sharpe. They left me with one thing—an illegitimate, screaming baby. Twenty years later, I posted that my "son" had passed his exams. He was joining the police force. That's when Garrett came back. With Linda. And a lawsuit. At the plaintiff's table, Linda looked polished—soft makeup, perfect posture. Her voice? Pure control. "After Garrett divorced, we got married and had a big, healthy boy. Jemma couldn't stand seeing us happy, so she stole our son. We searched for twenty years. She refuses to give him back. We're his biological parents. We have the right to take him." Garrett shot me a glare. "Jemma, just because you can't have kids doesn't mean you get to steal mine." The trial was livestreamed. The comments exploded. [Can't have your own kid so you steal one?] [You destroyed a family. Sick.] [Give him back to his real parents!] Then my "son" was called into the courtroom. And the whole room went dead quiet.

From a campus romance to marriage, Dominic Fleming had always believed he led a perfect life. His wife, Isabella Sinclair, was dazzlingly beautiful. Their daughter, Lilith, was sweet and obedient. Dominic sometimes told himself he must have been a saint in a past life to deserve such happiness. Everything began to change the moment Isabella's so-called "sworn brother," Alexander Grant, entered their lives. Alex's name appeared more and more often, and it crept into every corner of their marriage. For Lilith's sake, Dominic endured the strain again and again until the day of the accident. As he lay on the operating table with his life hanging by a thread, Isabella was not at his side—she was with Alexander instead. That was the moment Dominic's heart finally turned cold. So why did Isabella regret it? She knelt with Alexander, who likewise barely clung to life, and wept as she begged Dominic for forgiveness. "Dom, I know I was wrong. Let's get married again. I will make him kneel and beg you for forgiveness," Isabella said. "Scram," Dominic replied. Isabella nodded eagerly. "Fine. I will throw him out right now!" "Get the fuck out too!" Dominic barked.

Ivy Sinclaire was born powerful—Heiress to House of Valemont and Manhattan royalty. Power doesn’t stop betrayal from crawling into her life—all cloaked in the form of her husband and her closest friend/ legal counsel. On the night she receives her Woman of Year award in global business, she walks into her office and finds Harry between Vivienne’s legs on her Italian marble desk—the same one she had closed multi-million deals on. The same night, her car crashes in a fiery wreck, and she’s declared dead, but alas! Ivy isn’t dead. She is saved by the one man who’s always wanted her and her nemesis. Chase Sterling. An arrogant billionaire and philanthropist in a tailored suit. A man who’s watched Ivy from the shadows for years. Keeping his distance, waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and be her hero. “They tried to kill you and they almost succeeded,” Chase scoffs, adjusting his cufflinks. “I shouldn’t have trusted them,” Ivy wipes the tears streaming down her cheeks violently. “So what now?” She looks him dead in the eye. “I’ll give you 30% of House of Valemont. In return, you help me destroy them.” Reborn as Victoria St. James, Ivy returns to New York—unrecognizable, vengeful, and dangerous. With Chase at her side, she sets the stage for a merciless takedown, but as their dark alliance deepens into something twisted and magnetic, the question remains: who’s really in control? Because Chase didn’t just save her… He remade her, and he has no intention of letting her go.

My name is Emma. At 31, I am doing well for myself. I’ve got a great job. Or at least a well paid job, my boss loves me, and my girlfriends think I’m great. More important than anyone's opinion is that of my housemate, and best friend in the world, Scott. Scott thinks the world of me and always tells me to be myself. So why do I feel the need to lie outrageously on dates? From rock-climbing to Muay Thai: when it comes to prospective boyfriends, I am compelled to embellish my C.V. with unlikely porkies that alwaysbackfire - with hilarious results. I have Craig to blame for that - he really shattered my sense of self-confidence and self-worth. But then I turn the spotlight on Scott, and he wishes he'd never brought it up. With a penchant for checked shirts and Harry Potter-style specs, I decide he needs a makeover and to experience the abysmal dating world. My friendship with Scott began in the most unconventional way. His past life had made him homeless and isolated, but he saved me. And now we are inseparable. My dating disasters began when my relationship with he-who-must-not-be-named ended. Waking up with a pounding head, a dry mouth, aching limbs and a random arm draped over my waist, I struggle to get up and then stumble to the bathroom. I rubbed my eyes and stare at the hungover, half dead panda eyed loser staring back at me. What started out as a lighthearted challenge with Scott, became something more. We were prepared. But nothing could prepare us for the surprise results! Before long, I realise that our lives will never be the same again.

The Clark dynasty had spent five years searching for the perfect match for their son, Edward. Their wait wasn't in vain after an unexpected opportunity came from where they least expected, from the royal family. The Royal family, King Harry and Queen Evelyn who have ruled the kingdom for many years with pride, now found themselves in bankruptcy after making bad financial investments. Very desperate to save their kingdom, they struck a deal with the Clarks, who own a multi-billion dollar networking company, with a deal. Damian Clark, the shrewd patriarch, saw more than just a business deal. This was his chance to raise his family's social status. With a well worked out plan, responded to the royals' offer with an audacious proposal: an arranged marriage between his Son Edward and Princess Vanessa. Edward, once married and deeply in love, had suffered a tragic accident that left him with dissociative amnesia. His past, including his former marriage, was erased from his mind – a convenient circumstance for his parents who had never approved of his previous union. Princess Vanessa, an ambitious young lady seeking for a life outside the palace, found herself captured by duty and circumstances. The love for her people is forcing her to consider a loveless union with a man she barely knows. Edward and Vanessa agreed to the arranged union, despite the storm awaiting them. With Edward's forgotten past threatening to resurface, ready to tear apart the thread binding this union, duty, and  unplanned affection. Will the ghosts of Edward's lost memories destroy any chance of happiness for the couple? Or will Vanessa's selfless love for her kingdom pave the way for an unexpected romance? In this high-stakes game of love, power, and duty, the past and present collide. Can love conquer all?

My mother loved a billionaire once. He destroyed her quietly, with power and control and the particular cruelty of a man who knew nobody would believe his wife's pain. She left him with nothing but the clothes on her back and a warning she planted deep inside me before I could even walk. *Never marry a billionaire.* I believed her. I built my own empire. I refused every wealthy, charming, well-suited man who came to my table with a ring and a rehearsed smile. Then I walked into The Harlow Hotel and saw a waiter. No charm. No performance. Just steady eyes that looked at me like I had startled him and then looked away first. Shyly. His name was Charles Dick. Simple. Honest. Real. Everything my mother's warning was never about. I pursued him. I provided for him. I loved him completely. Five days before our wedding he told me the truth. And everything collapsed in sixty seconds. Because the most dangerous love stories are not the ones that begin with lies. They are the ones where two people lie to protect themselves from the very love they have been searching for their entire lives. .... Vivienne Donald had sworn she would never marry a billionaire. She kept her word. She married something far greater.