High End Crush Sub Indo

The hotel called, politely reminding me that the condoms used last night were unpaid and had been charged to my membership card. I was stunned. I'd been working late until midnight and hadn't set foot in any hotel. I confronted my husband, the only person who knew my card code. Nathan Phelps looked at me, bewildered. "Honey, that hotel costs over $10,000 a night. I'd never go there. It's probably a system error. Someone must have mistyped the card number. I'll file a complaint tomorrow." Unconvinced, I called my best friend, who managed the hotel. "Tracy, check who Nathan was with at the hotel last night. I'm catching him red-handed."

She was but a student, yet obliged to marry a man she had never met, for the sake of family. But this so-called husband cavorted daily with different women - and that was fine. Yet he still pestered her from time to time, laying hands on her improperly - clearly taking advantage! She dared not provoke, but flee she could. How bold of his mistress to brazenly visit their home. Well! This suited her own ends, giving them space as she retreated to her little nest, blissful in its coziness. Yet he barged in, occupying her bed. What vile man! Claiming he couldn't sleep without her - likely story! His company never lacked for women. Just as expected - a man's word is worthless. One moment embracing her, the next canoodling other women. She must keep her distance! Best they never meet again in this life!

As I'm unable to get a ticket for my return trip after the Thanksgiving holiday, I specifically booked a first-class seat home. Just as I find my seat, I see an unruly child jumping around on it. I patiently smile and say, "Kid, this is my seat. Where is your seat?" He makes a face at me. "It's mine now, old hag!" I grab him by the collar of his shirt, wanting to lift him out of the seat. At that moment, a woman's piercing voice sounds behind me. "What are you doing? Let go of my son!" I release my grip and say as gently as possible, "Please control your child. This is my seat." Suddenly, she raises her voice. "He's just a child! Can't you, as an adult, give way to him? You're young and dressed decently. How can you have no compassion at all?" I'm so angered by this distorted reasoning that I laugh. "If you're so compassionate, why didn't you spend the money to buy your child a first-class seat?"

My wife's gym is celebrating its grand opening, and I drag my buddy along to check the place out with a 9.90-dollar trial class I bought through an e-commerce platform. For the entire time, I never once let it slip that I'm the owner. Right after we finish training, a male coach tosses a price sheet at us. His eyes sweep over us with contempt as he says, "You two look like freeloaders. Our private sessions cost a few hundred each, and we don't offer freebies to people like you." I let out a disbelieving laugh. "We paid for this trial class. How is that freeloading? Go get your manager." He rolls his eyes and makes it seem like he's enforcing a very important rule. "Don't bother looking for the manager. My girlfriend owns this place, and she hates broke losers who try to get free classes." He dials her number right in front of us. His voice sounds both arrogant and pitiful. "Babe, two guys showed up and tried to con us into giving them a free class. They even told me to call the manager. Come over here and show them what's what!"

As the college entrance exams approached, I paid the top student in our class to tutor me. But the day she came over, she brought along her childhood sweetheart and insisted that he join our study sessions. I declined her request politely, and she did not press the matter further. The boy left my house in defeat and was struck by a car, suffering injuries so severe that they left him crippled. He could no longer continue his education and was forced to drop out, taking on grueling manual labor to survive. The girl continued tutoring me nonetheless. We both gained admission to the same university, grew close over time, fell in love, got married, and started a family. But on the night of our wedding anniversary, Sharon slipped poison into my soup and watched impassively as I began to convulse and vomit blood, the crimson stain spreading slowly across the floor. "This is what you owe Harry," she said with cold venom. "Taste what it's like to lose all hope." It turned out that she had harbored resentment toward me for all those years. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she first came to my house with her friend.

During the heatwave apocalypse, I didn't die due to the heat, nor did I die in a conflict. My younger sister, Amber Carter, has a "heart of gold" by nature. She couldn't bear to see the people suffering in the apocalypse, so she gave away all the food in our cellar. After we ran out of food, Amber forced me to go look for food outside in the heat. That was how I died—from the heat outside. In this lifetime, I'm going to enjoy my ice-cold watermelon while watching Amber dig her grave with her own hands.

For three agonizing years, my mother struggled with kidney failure. Finally, after all the waiting and the constant dialysis, she was next in line for a transplant. Hope seemed so close. But then, my husband, Zachary Levi, an esteemed nephrology professor, did the unforgivable. He surreptitiously gave his lover's mother the kidney that was intended for my mother. He said almost dismissively, "Ella's mother couldn't wait any longer. Your mother's been on dialysis for so long, she's not going to die anytime soon." Later, my mother passed away. I called Zachary one final time. Yet, it was a woman who answered. "Margaret, right? Zachary's in the shower. Is there something you need?" I stared at my mother's smile on the gravestone, and an overwhelming emptiness spread through me. "It's nothing. Just wanted to talk about the divorce."

At the New Year's party, my pineapple juice is swapped for beer. To make things worse, I've just taken cephalexin, which shouldn't be mixed with alcohol. After barely surviving the ordeal, I am shocked to see my husband, Harry Grant, defending Sally Lane, who was responsible for the mix-up. "Can we please just let it go? She didn't do it on purpose," Harry pleads. However, I'm not about to forgive Sally, especially given how sketchy her relationship with my husband has always been. But Harry cuts me off with a scowl, "Enough! She's just graduated and doesn't know any better. "What's the point of holding a grudge? Do you really want to ruin her life to feel better?" he asks, clearly trying to protect her. As I watch him stand by her, my heart sinks. "Fine then, go live with her."

...In the name of crush, love and lies...They say broken people can't fall in love, right? But what if love really lies? Fighting depression and bipolarity along with eating disorder and coupled with fighting the urge not to take her own life, can things get anymore confusing for Fay when a silly crush transpire into something else? They say obsession is sweet, but when it leads to infatuation, it tends to get more dangerous and powerful. "Can I kiss you?" He whispered, his lips hovering above hers slightly, their lips almost touching. She shook her head negatively, her lips unconsciously dying for his taste. "Alright." His breath out, untangling his fingers from her hair as he made to move his lips away from hers but she pulled his head back quickly before muttering against his small pink lips. "Kiss me." © Josephine. C. Ivy

Her name is Samarra Miel O' Harra, but she is better known as "Ms. Oh" in car racing. She is the queen of drag racing and the only princess of the O 'Harra clan. She could say she had it all at eighteen, fame, a wealthy family, and, hopefully, love. LOVE? She is unable to choose whom she can love. Since she was born, her parents had arranged her marriage to the son of her mother's best friend. Ezekiel was the eldest son of Buenavista and the man she secretly loved when she was eighteen. The man who saved her life. The man who understands her feelings and is her partner in everything. Zachary Buenavista is Ezekiel's younger brother and the man who will marry Samarra. The man who would teach Samarra the most important lesson about love. Kanino niya sasabihin "I love you till the end, Mr. Buenavista?”