Novel & Cerita Highschool Sweethearts Lyrics

I was Elena DeLuca, the orphan Lucian Vestri pulled out of a massacre. The night two mafia families turned the docks into a graveyard, my parents died taking bullets meant for him. He carried me out in his arms, brought me back to the Vestri estate, and kept me by his side ever since. For five years, he gave me everything. Protection. Privilege. A place no one else could touch. He made me the most untouchable woman in the city. So I was foolish enough to believe I meant something different to him. Then I told him I loved him. He gave me silence. And for the next three years, he gave me nothing else. Until the day he went to another family to formalize his engagement. His bride was Sofia Bellini. The woman who once watched me humiliate myself for him. That same day, another family placed a marriage alliance in front of me. This time, I did not cry. I did not beg. I lowered my eyes and said, calmly,"If my marriage can repay the Vestris and serve the family's interests, then I'm willing." The moment I was no longer his, Lucian went mad trying to make me stay.

I had just been discharged from surgery for a collapsed lung when my boyfriend took me to a childhood friend’s birthday party. At the party, he yanked off my ventilator and used it to inflate party balloons. My chest seized violently, as if my lung had been torn open. Justin Miller turned to Sophie Shaw proudly and said, “See? This is so much easier than blowing them up with your mouth.” I gripped the doorframe. I was gasping as my vision blurred. “Justin, I need that to survive! I can’t breathe!” His expression darkened. “Sophie was kind enough to invite you to her birthday party. Know your place! Besides, she put in a lot of effort for this day and spent hours preparing for it. Are you really going to ruin the celebration?” I struggled to speak through the pain. “Is her surprise more important than my life?” I extended a trembling hand toward the ventilator, but Justin waved it aside. He said impatiently, “I already checked. You won’t die from holding your breath for just a moment. Don’t be so selfish!” At that moment, pain stabbed me in the chest, and I used every ounce of my strength to press the emergency call button my brother had given me.

To cheer up his pretty assistant, my boyfriend brought her to attend a party. I had to bail him out after he was arrested by the police. The charge? Public indecency after consuming illegal substances. When I arrived at the police station to pick him up, he was still trying to comfort his assistant, paying no heed to the possibility that I might have seen the lipstick marks on his neck. After seeing that I wasn’t saying anything, my boyfriend assumed I was upset and explained impatiently, “Winnie was in a terrible mood that day, and I was just there to keep her company. We didn’t take part in any public indecency! It was the other guests who were messing about!” What a terrible excuse. If it was any other day, I wouldn’t be this calm. This time was different. I will no longer press him for answers like a mad woman. As I walked past the police station entrance, an officer looked at my boyfriend and his assistant, who were still all over each other. With eyes full of sympathy, he asked me, “Your partner?” I glanced at my boyfriend, whose focus was entirely fixated on Winnie, and shook my head. “No, just an acquaintance.” At that moment, Winnie was leaning against him, seeking his comfort. I pulled out my phone and texted my dad silently. “I agree to marry President Lee. I’ll leave the wedding preparation to you guys.” “I’ll be back in five days.”

In my previous life, during my birthday party, my wife Ruby’s so‑called best friend, Hayden, walked up to me with a glass of wine and a smirk. “Ruby had a little too much to drink last night,” he said. “I helped her shower. Hope you do not mind.” I lost my temper on the spot, and I demanded a divorce. I left with nothing because I wanted to get away from the two of them as quickly as possible. In the end, I died alone in a rented apartment. No one came to see me, not even once. After my death, Ruby’s company went public without any trouble. Her wedding with Hayden became the talk of the city. Everyone called them a perfect match. When they mentioned me, there was only ever one line: "That man just had bad luck. He was never meant for anything better." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my birthday party. Hayden walked up to me once more and repeated the exact same words. This time, I did not get angry. I smiled. I reached for Yara, my closest friend, who had come with me, and slipped my arm through hers in an intimate gesture. Under Ruby and Hayden's stunned gazes, Yara blinked innocently at Ruby, whose face had gone pale. "Ruby, don't be jealous. Jeff and I grew up together." She paused just long enough, then added with a faint smile, "After all, I was the one who taught him his first time."

My name is Valerie Sanchez. My husband's childhood sweetheart is pregnant, just like I am. To shield her reputation, he claims the child she's carrying is his. As for mine, he accuses me of cheating, saying it's the result of my sleeping with other men. Devastated, I confront him, but his response is as cold and unfeeling as ever. "Evelyn's family has always been strict with her. She can't bear hearing the rumors and gossip." Gazing at the man I had given my heart to for so long, I make an unspoken resolution—I will never love him again.

When I was five months pregnant, my mafia husband Dante Pierce had an affair with his childhood sweetheart. That was when I discovered that our marriage certificate was fake. He had secretly married someone else behind my back. Even worse, the child I was carrying would be excluded from the family inheritance. From beginning to end, I was nothing more than a public front for his precious childhood sweetheart. After learning the truth, I did not cry or throw a tantrum. I quietly erased my legal identity, changed my name and disappeared forever with my child. However, later, everyone claimed that Dante, head of the Pierce family, was a hopeless romantic who had given up everything to search for the wife and child who had vanished without a trace.

It is the night before our wedding when my fiancee, Whitney Sullivan, reunites with her childhood sweetheart, Steven Foster, a mercenary who has been missing for five years. He is brought to our doorstep by his teammates, bloodied and barely clinging to life after being poisoned with a deadly aphrodisiac on a mission. Whitney, usually so aloof and controlled, immediately breaks down. She locks the door, defying my efforts to stop her, and stays with Steven all night long. I choose to stay outside the door, never closing my eyes. I confront her the following morning with a torrent of accusations, only for her to stand in front of Steven protectively and say shamelessly, "I couldn't just stand by and watch Steven die. Isn't it just my virginity? What's the harm in letting loose the night before the wedding?" In that instant, all my affection for her is utterly destroyed.

The day Pedro Palmer's mom was supposed to get my kidney, I ghosted. He waited outside the OR for ten hours. What did he get? A death notice. After that, he went full beast mode on his career. Five years later, his company blew up. Media darling. CEO. Power suit. And yeah, he was holding another girl's hand, all smiles for the cameras. "Do you have anything to say to Ruth Rackham? We heard she supported your early days," a reporter asked. Not even a pause. "Yeah. Thanks for vanishing. For letting my mom die with questions. For wrecking me. She taught me not to trust anyone." He stepped in closer, eyes cold. "This is what you wanted, Ruth? Too bad. Love's gone. And you? Not even worth my hate." That's when Nellie Lyon, the reporter, went pale. "Mr. Palmer... Ruth Rackham died five years ago. She was the test subject. She donated her body—before she passed..."

Before my parents died, they arranged for me to marry Alan Palmer, the powerful but impotent overlord of Northingdale. The day I received the engagement letter, strange floating messages appeared before my eyes. [Don't marry him. He can't have kids, and he's violent!] [If you go through with this, that freak will torture you to death. Run!] [Your childhood sweetheart is your true love. Run away with him!] My childhood sweetheart, Leon Wade, grabbed my hand and looked into my eyes with what seemed like deep affection. "Tiffany, let's run away together. Have your maid take your place and marry Alan. She knows you well. No one will notice." Fooled by the so-called love in his eyes and those floating messages, I chose to go with him in my past life. I could only watch as the maid stole my identity as the heiress of the Glissons, gave Alan a son, and walked away with hundreds of millions of dollars in fortune. In the end, Leon held her in his arms. He tied a huge stone to me, kicked me into the ocean, and said smugly, "From now on, she's Tiffany. As for you, rot at the bottom of the sea forever!" I watched as sharks slowly tore into my body, pain ripping through every inch of me, until only my bones sank into the dark water. After being reborn, I finally understood that those floating messages were fake. They were carefully planted traps designed by Leon. Now, facing him and his pleas for me to run away, I let out a cold laugh and ignored the floating messages. "I'm not some helpless maiden. I'm marrying Alan."

On my birthday—the same day Troy hyped some "surprise" for me online—I saw a photo that afternoon. He was on my horse. With his assistant. His shirt hung open, red finger marks dragged across his chest. Caption? [First time in my life. Thanks to him.] The comments went wild: [Jealous of whoever touched those abs.] [That position... damn.] Troy liked that one. My chest went cold. I thought that side of him was just for me. Turns out—it could be anyone. I washed the horse myself. Scrubbed off every trace. Then I signed the ranch over to him. "You can give the rest away. Pick whoever you want." He lit up. I said yes to the arranged marriage.