Novel & Cerita Hazbin Hotel Scene

"Do you want to lose your job to be my lover who will give you anything you want, or do you want to be just jobless for rejecting me?" Daisy just wants peace in her normal life, until she meets River, the owner of the hotel where she works. A rich and powerful man who, in just one night, could turn Daisy into Cinderella. But instead of being River's lover, Daisy became the big boss's personal maid. The maid who takes care of her handsome master's "most personal" parts. So, what's it like for Daisy to work as River's maid? Was it still as lovely as River had promised when life violently shook him from the highest peak to the lowest bottom?

Having an Awakenist as my wife meant enduring her monkish attitude toward sex. We could only be intimate on the sixteenth of every month. Every detail—my position, rhythm, even my expression—had to follow her rigid rules. If I showed too much pleasure, she would immediately rise and leave. We had been married for five years. Was I ever tired of this? Yes. Still, I always gave in. I accepted these limitations because I loved her. "The Saintess loves me too," I told myself. That faith shattered the day I was sent to extinguish a hotel fire. Amid the flames, I found my wife pressed close to a man in disheveled clothes. Between their arms was a young boy.

Kashmir is a very beautiful woman but has no idea how beautiful she is and naïve when it comes to men. She has never been in love until she had an accident while on vacation but was helped by a stranger that also took her breath away. She was smitten instantly when her eyes landed on him. The moment Amir set his eyes on Kashmir on the day of the accident, he already knew that he loved her at the first sight. He decided to get to know her upon knowing that they stay in the same hotel but unfortunately, he had no chance to make the first step because she already left and went back to her homeland. What did destiny have in store for Kashmir and Amir? How will their path cross again?

I knew perfectly well that open flames were forbidden at a gas-leak scene, yet as a firefighter, I still backed my girlfriend's childhood friend when he insisted on lighting a cigarette "to calm his nerves." In my previous life, a sudden gas leak erupted during a gathering. Her childhood friend insisted on smoking to steady himself. I slapped the lighter out of his hand and yelled at him for trying to get us all killed. Humiliated, he ignored everyone's attempts to stop him and stormed outside—only to be crushed by an advertising board blown loose by the explosion's shockwave. Later, when I saved a child who had fallen from a building and was left hanging in midair myself, my girlfriend—my second-in-command—maliciously cut my safety rope. She stared at my corpse and said, "If you hadn't humiliated George in front of everyone, he wouldn't have died." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that room thick with the stench of leaking gas.

I had been in a relationship with Zachary Dawson for seven years and engaged for three when, out of the blue, Ruby White, the daughter of his mentor, moved into our home. Sitting casually on the bed that Zachary and I shared, Ruby lounged with an air of nonchalance, her voice playful and teasing. "Zachary, the dental god, sure has a nice bed," she remarked with a smirk. "I can only imagine what it would be like to spend the night with him in this bed." I captured the scene on my phone and sent the video to our family group chat with a brief message: Looks like Zachary might have a new girlfriend Zachary rushed home, wrapping his arms protectively around a tearful Ruby. He pointed at me, his voice seething with anger. "My mentor's dying wish was for me to take care of Ruby! If you can't accept that, then move out!" Honestly, my brows furrowed deeper than the wrinkles on the bedsheets Ruby had sat on. Fine. I didn't need the bed, and I didn't need a fiancé anymore.

In the eighth year of my marriage to Georgia Snow, her 108th lover, John, showed up and made a scene in front of me. In the past, she would have dealt with anyone this bold before they even reached me. However, she broke from her usual pattern this time. She indulged his behavior and allowed him to taunt me. Georgia even brought him along to high-profile events. She turned a blind eye to all the rumors circulating everywhere. She even dared to skip my family banquet. When I saw the photos my secretary had sent over, Georgia was in a high-end restaurant enjoying a meal with John. The next second, I showed the photos to her mother. Georgia and I were in a business marriage. We had agreed from the start that we could each do as we pleased. With that said, there was an unspoken rule. We had to keep up appearances and maximize the combined interests of both families. Since she refused to follow the rules, I had to ditch her, lest she affected my family business’ stock price.

After blowing through 15 million, which was my wedding gift from the Masons, I turned myself in for marriage fraud. That was when the housekeeper's daughter, Hannah Castillo, panicked. On May 5th, Castillo Enterprise and Mason Group were set to unite through marriage. I was meant to be the bride, but instead, I was locked away in a dark storage room. By the time I fought my way to the ceremony, Hannah had already finished the wedding using my identity. I went onstage and said I was the Castillos' real daughter, only to be questioned by everyone in the company. The reason was simple: Hannah had been using my name and status openly inside the company for the past six months. Hannah kicked me to the ground and sneered, "You're the housekeeper's kid! How dare you make a scene!" Before I could pull out any proof, the bodyguards Hannah hired dragged me out and dumped me on the road. A car ran into me, and I died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day before the wedding.

I was anonymously reported for fraudulent credit card use and arrested. The victim turned out to be my own husband. I pulled out my phone to show them our marriage certificate to prove my innocence, but the police officer frowned as he looked at me. "Ma'am, the Lucas Richardson on this certificate is not your husband. You're still unmarried." I could not believe it and asked the officer to check again immediately. He looked at me with sympathy, but quickly spoke again, "Our records show that Lucas Richardson's spouse is Vivian Clarke and that they have a three-year-old child together. Ma'am, if you cannot prove your relationship with him, you will face criminal detention." I felt like I had been struck by lightning. Six years ago, Lucas had a secretary named Vivian who was obsessively in love with him. On the day Lucas and I got married, she caused a scene and threatened suicide. In the end, he had to personally handle the situation for three days before coming home. It turned out that his solution was to marry Vivian instead.

I cleared my throat and picked up the menu, pretending to study it. “So,” I said after a moment, “before we start pretending this is something serious, you should know… I’m not exactly the settling-down type.” He arched his brow but said nothing. “I do hookups,” I continued, keeping my tone casual. “That night at the hotel? I was supposed to meet someone else. I went into the wrong room. You were literally a mistake.” He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. Just smirked faintly and reached for his glass of whisky, taking a slow sip. My fake confidence wavered. “Did you hear what I said?” “Every word,” he said quietly. “And?” “And I’m still here.” I stared at him with disbelief. “Wow. You’re not even mad? You’re supposed to call off the wedding and storm out or something.” He chuckled in a low tone, resting his elbow on the table. “You’re really trying hard to get rid of me, aren’t you?” ******* I caught my fiancé cheating with the woman he called his “sister.” Broken, drunk, and reckless, I stumbled into the wrong hotel room, and into the arms of a stranger. By morning, he was gone, leaving only a note: Wrong room, but you taste good. I wanted to forget him. Weeks later, my best friend begged me to meet the man her father had arranged for her to marry and make him call off the wedding. I went there in her place, only to discover he was the same man from that night. He called off the wedding with her. Then he asked me to marry him, but I refused. But refusing a billionaire with an obsession is never that simple… especially when he shows up as my new boss.

On Valentine’s Day, I went skiing for fun. I never expected my younger sister, Fiona White, to get into an argument with our parents and run away. She came to find me. The hotel receptionist made her register as a guest despite sharing my room. I said, “She’s my sister. She ran away from home after an argument and did not bring her driver's license. She’s only staying one night. I’ll send her home tomorrow.” However, he looked at us menacingly. He gave Fiona a lewd wink and acted like he knew what was really going on. “Sure.” He smiled. “It’s Valentine’s Day, so I get it. No need to be shy.” Seeing how tired Fiona was, I took her upstairs without making a fuss. However, I found a post online later that night. [Some men are really so brazen. He brought a prostitute to the hotel and denied it when I called him out. He insisted that she’s his little sister. Does he think I can’t tell?] Some netizens questioned him and told him that maybe he was wrong in his assumption. [I’ve been in this field for more than a decade. I know what I saw! He didn’t dare to register her. That means he was afraid his wife might find out about his actions! I’ll go to their room and record just how loudly that woman moans. I’ll livestream it!] I was stunned. I thought it was just a coincidence. I clicked on the photo the receptionist had sneakily taken and froze. That was me! Did he think Fiona, who was lying on the couch, was a prostitute? But she was really my little sister!