Hooligans No Face No Name Artinya

Moans. I hear moans. "Ugh! Faster!" I covered my ears like an innocent child hoping that they would quite down. I ran back down the kitchen and drank a glass of water. I'm not paid enough for this. Thinking back and I was already regretting my life decisions— NOT! Now that I have discovered how much of a big womanizer this fiancée of mine is, I think I now have a reason to dump him. Disguised as his maid is so hard just to get intel unto what his true colors actually are. Honestly wasn't the best idea, but it definitely is the most efficient one. I sat on the counter of the kitchen and rested my head on the table over my folded arms. Perhaps a nap might help innocent me up. Just when slumber finally came, I heard sloppy footsteps coming down the staircase. The "young master" finally finished his business. I went to meet them at the bottom of the stairs to greet his lady friend safety on her way home. "I can't wait for tomorrow night," she said in a seductive tone and batted her lashes on him. I held back my urge to barf. Her arms are all over him as if she was the drunk one when in fact it was my good for nothing fiancé. "You're too loud," Timothee replied as it was his way of rejecting girls. And yes, another girl cried that night. She won't be expecting to sleep with him again. As the lady went out the door, I look at the young master. His hair wet, topless and jeans unbuttoned. "Don't drool over me, scullery maid." And with that he went back up. Jerk!

Justin Davidson and Eva Walker, the long-lost heiress of the Walker family, fell in love. But Eva's adopted sister, Stella, drove a wedge between them. Even after Stella’s death, Justin couldn’t let go of her. He trampled Eva’s dignity, hurt her body, and forced her to wear Stella’s wedding dress and ring when he proposed. Eva’s parents only had eyes for Stella, too. To pressure Eva further, Justin even went so far as to hurt Eva's grandmother, the one who had raised her. On the day of the wedding rehearsal, Eva finally decided to walk away. However, when the truth came out, Justin dropped to his knees and begged her not to leave.

Cumplía años y mi esposo, Don Damián, me regaló el collar de perlas de su difunta esposa. Me lo puse para la cena. Mi hijastro, León, enfurecido, me arrojó vino tinto encima. Fui el hazmerreír de toda la fiesta. —¡Maldita! —me dijo entre dientes—. ¿Acaso crees que por ponerte las joyas de mi mamá vas a poder reemplazarla? Me clavó una mirada gélida. Y luego gritó: —¡Lárgate de mi casa! Pero su madre murió cuando él era un bebé. Fui yo quien lo crio. Alguien le metió cizaña. Le dijeron que yo había matado a su madre. Ahora cree que soy una víbora que engatusó a su padre. ¿Y su padre? ¿Mi esposo? Él nunca me vio realmente. Solo veía el fantasma de Cristal. No se me rompió el corazón… ¡se hizo añicos! No me amaron. Ni siquiera me tomaron en cuenta. Así que me fui. Entonces, ¿por qué, cuando por fin me había ido, volvieron de rodillas, suplicándome que volviera?

Two months into my cold war with Sean, the lover he’d been keeping finally danced her way right up to me, the real deal. Everyone expected me to react the same way I always had before, kicking up a huge scene to stake my claim. Instead, I looked at the intimate photos of Sean and her in the group chat, smiled, and sent them my blessing. [Looking good. Wishing you two a long and happy life.] The chat went dead silent. Sean must’ve sobered up from his little paradise because in the middle of the night, he drove home and pounded on my door. He was furious. “Do you think this is funny?” However, I only met his gaze calmly. “Honestly, after all these years, none of it is.”

Isla Hart gave up her dreams for love. But when love gave up on her, she had no choice but to fight for herself. After marrying the man she thought was her first, and forever, love, she gave up everything: her career, her family, her identity. For six years, she lived quietly as a devoted wife and mother, convinced that her sacrifices were for a greater good. Until the day he whispered another woman’s name under anesthesia. Until the woman showed up, pregnant with twins, claiming to be the real love of his life. Humiliated, heartbroken, and called unworthy by her husband’s family, she takes her three-year-old daughter and walks into a stormy night with nothing but a suitcase, a broken heart, and a single phone number to call. But rock bottom is where her story truly begins. With the help of an old friend, and a man she never saw coming, she’ll find the courage to start over, the strength to stand tall, and the power to prove that she is, and always was, more than enough. A story of betrayal, resilience, and second chances in love, Unworthy No More is a heart-tugging journey from silent suffering to radiant strength.

He stole my name. Then he tried to steal my life. But he’ll never steal my heart will he?” When August Hale, a quiet literature student with a past he tries to forget, transfers to a prestigious university under a scholarship, all he wants is to stay invisible, graduate, and move on. But his plan falls apart the moment he discovers another student on campus using his exact full name. Same name. Same birthday. Same hometown. But this August Hale is wealthy, charming, and cruel and he already knows too much. At first, August thinks it’s a prank. A coincidence. Until he starts losing things His place in classes His reputation His identity The fake August Hale, whose real name is Sebastian Wolfe, is playing a dangerous game. And when he sets his sights on the real August, obsession begins to blur the line between identity theft and romantic fixation. August wants answers. Sebastian wants August. But as August begins to dig into Sebastian’s past, he unearths something much darker than he expected a twisted reason why Sebastian chose him and why he can’t let him go.

My husband is a man with powerful emotions. To keep his adopted sister content, he allocates millions annually for her to spend lavishly. He's concerned about her well-being. Each night, he sits by her, ensuring she settles down. Later, when I was shot and bleeding heavily, requiring immediate aid, he remained utterly indifferent.He directed the entire medical team to his distraught adopted sister instead. I used my remaining strength to call my husband. The phone connected. His voice, tinged with irritation, answered: "What is it now? You're fine, perfectly healthy. Why would you need a doctor?" "Listen, Sofia needs me. Our family's medical resources are spread thin. For minor issues, just bear with it." My heart sank, feeling as if it had turned to ice. He truly is a man with powerful emotions. It's just that the one he truly cares about has never been me.

Tatapan tajam. Dingin dan tak banyak bicara adalah ciriku. Aku terlahir dari orang tua yang tak menginginkan adanya diriku disisi mereka sehingga mereka membuangku di panti asuhan. Kerasnya hidup membuat aku memiliki naluri sebagai seorang pembunuh. Aku melampiaskan setiap amarahku terhadap sikap orang tuaku kepada para korbanku. Aku menikmati kesakitan dan ketakutan mereka terhadap maut yang aku ciptakan di hadapan mereka. Aku memilih pekerjaan sebagai pembunuh bayaran. Karena ternyata aku mengidap pshycopat. Dan aku biasa dipanggil ANDRA. Aku sengaja tidak langsung menghabisi nyawa mereka tapi aku lebih memilih membunuh mereka perlahan dengan cara ini aku mendapatkan kepuasan. Hingga aku bertemu seseorang yang mampu mengubah sifat iblisku menjadi sosok manusia yang lebih baik bahkan jauh lebih baik. Siapa dia? Ikuti kisahku ANDRA.

Lavish London mansions. A hand-painted Rolls-Royce. And eight dead friends. For the British fixer Robbie Chase, working for the Russian's President most vocal critic meant stunning perks – but also constant danger. His gruesome death is one of 14 that retired British Agent QUINTUS NOONE has linked to Russia – but the UK police shut down every last case. QUINTUS NOONE'S investigation reveals the full story of a ring of death on British soil that the government has ignored.

Everyone in the social circle of Kingsford said I was nothing more than a lapdog raised by Charles Mankin. I was always at his beck and call. I did every filthy, ludicrous thing for him under the sun. When he street raced, I rode shotgun. When he drank himself senseless, I made him hangover soup. When he chased girls, I prepared protection for them. Over time, everyone knew: Charles had a dog who never ran, never bit back, no matter how hard he kicked. They all said I must be madly in love with him. Even Charles started to believe it. So he pushed further, more freely, more cruelly, crossing lines as if they never existed. Then came my twenty-fifth birthday. He, in a rare stroke of mercy, said he'd celebrate it with me. But instead, what he got was the news that I was leaving the country. He went berserk, charging through the airport like a man possessed. I peeled his fingers off my wrist one by one, smiling like I'd never been happier. "Don't be stupid," I told him, still smiling. "That was never love." That night, Charles smashed apart his family home like a rabid dog.