Herobrine Story

ร่างแกร่งของชายหนุ่มที่เพิ่งกลับจากทำงานหนักทั้งวัน พร้อมลูกน้องที่เดินตามหลังมานับสิบ สายตาคู่เย็นเฉียบเรียบนิ่ง ไม่บ่งบอกอารมณ์ แม่บ้านหลายคนที่เดินออกมารับ พร้อมเตรียมรองเท้า รับของที่เจ้านายหนุ่มถือมา “ทำไมบ้านเงียบ?” “คุณท่านไม่อยู่ค่ะ” แม่บ้านเอ่ย “อืม แล้ว…” “เฮียยยยยยย” เสียงใสๆของหญิงสาวที่กำลังวิ่งมาอย่างร่าเริงเข้ามาหา ก่อนกระโดดกอดเขาเต็มแรง “หรรษา ทำไมหนูต้องวิ่ง” “รอเฮียมาทั้งวัน กว่าจะเสด็จกลับมานะคะ”หรรษาเอ่ย “รอเฮียทำไม จะเอาอะไรอีก” “หนูขอออกไปเที่ยวนะคืนนี้” หรรษาเอ่ย “จะไปก็ไปซิ ปกติหนูก็ไปไม่ใช่เหรอหรรษา” กะตัญเอ่ย “หนูจะขอพาเอแคลไปด้วยไงคะ” “ทำไมต้องพาเอแคบไปด้วย?” “ก็น้องจบม.6แล้ว หนูจะพาไปฉลอง เป็นอันว่าขอแล้วนะคะ ฟ่อดดด รักเฮียจัง” เอแคลที่หรรษาพูดถึง เป็นหนึ่งในสาวใช้ในบ้าน ซึ่งเธอเป็นหลานสาวของหัวหน้าแม่บ้านที่นี่ โตที่นี่ และดินแดนกับพาเพลินก็เอ็นดูส่งเสียให้เรียน “นี่สาบานว่าเป็นแฝดผมจริง” กะตัญเอ่ยกับป้าแม่บ้าน “คุณหนูหรรษาร่าเริงจริงๆค่ะ”

Serena Collins bekerja di sebuah perusahaan ternama di London. Hidupnya terasa sempurna, apalagi ia memiliki kekasih bernama Ethan. Namun, segalanya hancur ketika Serena mendapati penghianatan Ethan dengan kakak tirinya sendiri. Di tengah kepedihan itu, Serena justru terjerat dalam sebuah perjanjian dengan Steave Alexander, Presdir karismatik sekaligus paman Ethan. Awalnya hanya demi keuntungan masing-masing, tapi perlahan muncul hasrat yang tak terbendung di antara mereka. Mampukah Serena bertahan menghadapi permainan hati yang penuh resiko, atau justru menemukan cinta sejatinya di tempat yang tak terduga?

The moment my roommate walked in, she used my locker. She claimed to have too many things and nowhere else to put them. I rolled my eyes. Why should I let her get her way? I was not her parent. She was no princess, but she acted like one. I was ready to argue, but she tossed 200,000 dollars at me. “At your service, Your Highness!”

I did three years in prison for my wife, Lilian Parson. The day I got out, she handed me an envelope for her company's grand opening. Inside was a single dollar bill. For a second, I thought it was a mistake. Then I saw her colleague, Nathan Ramsey, holding his envelope—his also contained a single dollar. Relieved, I pushed my doubts aside. I smiled, stood by Lilian's side through the entire ceremony, the picture of a proud, supportive husband. That night, scrolling through Instagram, I saw Nathan's latest post. A photo of a check. [Congratulations to Lilian Parson on the grand opening! So generous—100 million as a gift!] The comments section exploded with envy and blessings, congratulating him and "the boss" on finally becoming a couple. Lilian offered no explanation. Instead, she hurried to draw a line between us. "You just got out of prison," she said coolly. "It's not a good look to go public right now. Let's keep our marriage a secret. In front of others, just call me your boss." Then she turned around and liked Nathan's post. I wiped the tears from my eyes, picked up my phone, and dialed the number of her greatest rival. "From now on, I work for you," I said.

My three-year-old daughter was playing in the room, and she suddenly fell from the window of the room and died. In my past life, I held her lifeless body after learning the news, crying so hard I thought I would never stop. But when my husband rushed back, he slapped me across the face without a second thought. "How could you be so cruel? You actually threw her out of the window—she was only three!" I was too stunned to react. Later, my husband and my best friend teamed up and testified that I had thrown my daughter from the window because I had an argument with my husband. I was cyberbullied and labeled the "evil mom". Amid the public hatred and the pain of losing my daughter, I jumped to prove my innocence. Even in death, I still didn't understand. My daughter had been fine playing in the room—how did she fall out of the window? When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she fell.

On the fifth year of their marriage, finding the vitamin C her husband bought tasted too bitter, Jeanne Dotson went to the hospital with the bottle. The doctor took one look and frowned. "This isn't vitamin C." "I-I'm sorry, Doctor?" "I could say it a dozen times and it'd still be the same," the doctor replied, pointing at the bottle. "This is Mifepristone. Taking too much of it doesn't just cause infertility—it can do serious harm to your body." Jeanne felt a lump stuck in her throat, and her fingers turned pale from clenching the bottle. "That's impossible. My husband got this for me. His name is Darren Walsh—he's a doctor here too." The doctor looked up at her, his expression turning strange, tinged with something she couldn't quite read. After a pause, he gave a small smile. "Miss, you might want to visit the psych ward instead. We all know Dr. Walsh's wife—she gave birth just two months ago. Don't let your imagination run wild, all right? There's no point."

At the class session joined by the school leaders and officials from the Department of Education, my lecture PPT was swapped for a sensational "Mistress's Charge Letter". "Charge one. Willingly being the other woman makes her an unsuitable role model for students." "Charge two. Attempting to secure a higher position through sex." "Charge three. Menacing the lawful wife with the absurd hope of advancing through pregnancy." Amidst the leaders and officials, my husband's illegitimate child accused me of disrupting her parents' marriage. In the name of "expelling the mistress to achieve justice", she coerced me, the true wife, into a humiliating bow to the mistress. I confronted my husband upon his arrival, "Care to explain? Why didn't I know that you had an illegitimate daughter?" He responded with a strike to the girl's face. "Where are you from, you unruly child? You're so ill-mannered!"

After my parents were killed in a territory war, I was taken in by Don Moretti, head of New York's most powerful crime family. I was the only civilian in a world of made men. For twenty years, I was raised alongside his twin heirs, Marco and Santino. Their protection and favor made me the envy of every aspiring mob wife in the city. But when I was finally ready to become a real part of the family, they both turned me down. Marco said, "I need to focus on expanding our territory first. I'm not ready for this kind of commitment." Santino said, "An outsider can't be trusted with family secrets." The next night, at my birthday celebration, they both proposed to the daughter of a low-level enforcer. To prove their loyalty to her, they let her force me to drink "The Don's Fire"—a 150-proof grappa laced with ghost peppers that would hospitalize anyone who wasn't raised on it since childhood. Broken in body and spirit, I made a call from my hospital bed. "I accept the proposal from the Luciano Syndicate."

During our decade together, I stay by Felix Valentino's side as he slowly ascends to the peak of the mafia world. I become the woman he trusts most. However, he secretly names an island that we fought for and won together after my best friend, Lilian Fenati. Why? Because Lilian is terminally ill. Her dying wish is to marry Felix on the island named after her. Felix clamps down on this and forbids anyone from telling me. He has no idea Lilian live streams the whole thing for me. That night, I cry my heart out. Meanwhile, Felix spends the night with Lilian. I lie in a pool of blood. My heart condition acts up, and my breathing starts to slow. Where is Felix? At the hospital with Lilian. Five days later, I accept a marriage proposal from Harold Bonanno, the mafia king.

My father-in-law said he wanted to experience "how the young folks have fun these days," so I took him to my wife's newly opened upscale cocktail bar for a quiet drink. I’d just finished ordering him a custom cocktail when a man from a booth across the room swaggered over, glass in hand. His eyes scanned the drink menu on our table, and a condescending smirk twisted his lips. "Only ordering the cheapest well drinks?" he sneered. "Brought the old man here to enjoy the free air conditioning? Trash like you belongs in a dive bar. Who even let you in here?" Anger burned in my chest. I stood up, my jaw clenched. "We're paying customers. What's it to you?" But before I could say another word, his face darkened with pure rage. He snatched the half-finished beer bottle from our table and smashed it on my head. "My girl owns this place!" he snarled. "Even if I crack your skull open, I can afford the payout! You filthy pauper—either get on your knees and lick my shoes dry, or get the hell out of my sight. You're an eyesore." The beer dripped down my face. My hands trembled with fury as I wiped it away. Then, a cold calm settled over me. I opened my phone, switched to the camera, and went live. "Alright, everyone," I said into the screen. "You won't want to miss this. We're going live to catch my cheating wife and see the double life she's been leading."