How Does Doma Die

El día de mi cumpleaños, en la fiesta, mi esposo David Herrera apareció de repente con mi hermana adoptiva y su hijo. Al prepararnos para salir, él, con total naturalidad, colocó a mi hermana adoptiva en el asiento del copiloto y luego me dijo: —Los niños se marean fácil, atrás hay demasiadas cosas, tú estás bien y puedes ir en autobús. Mis amigas no hicieron más que asentir: —Eres la hermana mayor, cuidar del hijo de tu hermana es lo que toca. Cuatro autos, y ningún lugar para mí, la protagonista. Me subí al autobús con el corazón resentido y vi en el chat del grupo de paseo a David y Ana Blanco interactuando de manera demasiado cercana. Incluso hablaban de cosas que yo desconocía por completo. Cuando abrí el nuevo video que me habían enviado, en la mesa que habían preparado para mí solo quedaban sobras. Hasta el pastel de cumpleaños que había cuidado con esmero, David se lo dio a Ana y su hija como postre. Alguien no pudo soportarlo y le preguntó si eso no estaba mal. David, limpiando cuidadosamente la boca de Ana, ni siquiera levantó la cabeza: —Somos familia, Brittany Moreno no se va a enojar. En ese instante, nuestro matrimonio de siete años llegó a su fin.

My grandfather died on a covert mission, and authorities approved a grand funeral in his honor. Concerned about my grief, my fiancé offered to handle the arrangements. On the day of the funeral, I arrived with my grandfather's ashes, only to find his portrait discarded on the ground, replaced by one of a dog. Furious, I tried to remove it, but my fiancé's adopted sister stopped me. "Hands off that portrait!" Suppressing my fury, I countered, "This is my grandfather's funeral. He was a decorated hero." "So what?" She shrugged, sneering, "Isaac said Luck deserves the grandest send-off. If you've got a problem, take it up with him. Adoring me, he'd cancel your engagement and ditch you in a heartbeat." I laughed incredulously, calling Isaac's family. "You people begged for this engagement. Since when does your adopted daughter get to call it off?"

The day Eve Jones came back to town, Zac Gibson did not come home all night. The next day, I saw a post on her social media, showing a photo of two hands tightly intertwined, along with Zac’s peaceful, childlike sleeping face. When he finally came home, he threw divorce papers at me and said, "You’ve been standing in Eve’s place this whole time. Now that she’s back, it’s time for you to move on." It did not matter anymore. I was not going to live much longer anyway. Whoever wanted the title of "Mrs. Gibson" could have it. Later, I died. But Zac cried at my grave, kneeling, promising he would never hold anyone else’s hand again.

My boyfriend Julian is a chess grandmaster, a genius. At sixteen, he became the youngest grandmaster in North American history. I gave him ten years of my life, but a ring was never on the table. But when he reached the pinnacle of his career and won the Grand Slam, he still refused to break the pact he'd made with his family about his career. "According to my plan, I'm not considering marriage or any other form of long-term commitment until all my goals are achieved." I didn't argue with him. I quietly packed his luggage for the World Championship and wished him the best. He had no idea that at the very moment he was lifting the championship trophy with the world watching, I was dragging my failing body to sign my own name on a euthanasia consent form.

One week after my death, my husband, Christopher Ford, was making love on our bed with his one true love. His face showed pure satisfaction. "Finally, I don’t have to deal with that bar hostess anymore." Later, he held my belongings, weeping with regret. "Phoebe, why haven’t you come back?" It seemed he had forgotten that he had already pushed me to my death that night. I was forced to donate my bone marrow to his one true love, and I died, along with our unborn child.

A rogue and a runt. A born and raised alpha. A boy with a secret. And a man bent on changing fate, no matter who gets harmed. ~ "Have you contacted the council about the rogues?" "Yes and they say that rogues don't band together in mass amounts." "Did you tell them about the lack of scents?" I roll my eyes at his question. "Of course I did." "And?" "And they think there's a witch out there causing havoc for the rogues," I scoff. "They said that only a witch could hide a wolf's scent but I can't seem to think of what witch would be out there doing silly experiments that won't benefit them. They'd be better off working with a pack if they had any interest there at all." "I get where they're coming from but this is mass reports across the country," he says pointing to the map. "I've been on the phone with packs all over the country having the same issues. We seem to have a higher concentration as of late," he furrows his brows. "Other packs have been having decreases of these rogues?" He nods. "This past week alone we've had six sightings and it's only Thursday." I feel tension rise behind my eyes as the realization hit me. "It's Celeste, isn't it. . ." (rewrite of Innocent Little Runt

I spent a year starving for a man who wouldn't touch me. Then his father and brother decided to feast. Rob called me a slut when I begged him to fuck me. Made me feel worthless for craving his hands on my body. Then he let another woman suck his cock right in front of me—and told me she did it better. I should have left. But I followed him to his family's private island in Italy instead. That's where I met them. Victor Marchetti. Rob's father. Silver hair, ice-blue eyes, and a body built for sin. He looked at me like he wanted to devour me whole. When his hand touched the small of my back, I felt it between my thighs. Dante. The older brother. Dark, dangerous, and built like he could break me apart with his bare hands. One look from those black eyes and I was wet. One word from that deep voice and I was ready to drop to my knees. I tried to resist. Tried to remember I had a boyfriend sleeping down the hall. But they hunted me. Cornered me. Made me admit what my body had been screaming for. When they finally took me—both of them, at the same time, claiming every hole, every sound, every desperate whimper—I understood what I'd been missing. Victor's hand around my throat while Dante buried himself so deep I couldn't breathe. Two men who didn't just want me. They needed me. Owned me. Ruined me for anyone else. Rob made me beg for scraps. His father and brother made me scream their names.

They’re off-limits, forbidden, and that’s what makes them irresistible. She’s the goddaughter who’s been touching herself to his name since she was old enough to know what wanting meant, and now she’s come home to collect. She’s the neglected wife whose stepsons look at her like they want to devour her, maybe it’s time she let them. She’s the fiancée whose future husband sold her to his brother to cover his debts and she’s discovering her new owner knows exactly how to make her beg. Daddy’s best friends. Stepfathers. Bosses. Professors. Brothers-in-law. Stepbrothers. Father-in-laws. Best friends’ dads. Every man she was told to stay away from. This collection contains: age-gap, step-family, power exchange, revenge, MFM, FFM, obsession, and possession. You’ve been warned, but you’ll read it anyway.

My husband, Chandler Goodwin, claims that he doesn't understand what the phrases "silent treatment" or "giving the cold shoulder" mean. Yet, in the three years we have been married, he has never once spoken to me sweetly. The first time we have a falling out, I remain proud and dignified. We end up ignoring each other for seven days straight. The seventh time we have a cold standoff, I start to panic a little. However, despite trying all sorts of methods, he doesn't back down. The 11th time it happens, I have already learned to work through my emotions myself. Chandler doesn't even need to say anything before I take the initiative to apologize first. I simply think that he's just a naturally indifferent person, that nobody can warm his stone-cold heart. Then, on the third year of our marriage, I accidentally ruin his dress shirt while ironing it. Chandler doesn't say a word, but that very night, he packs his things and moves into a hotel. On the third day of being blocked, I head to his company with a handwritten apology. While passing by his office, I spot him leaning over to shoot his angry assistant a doting smile. "I'm sorry for raising my voice at you just now and upsetting you. It's been 57 minutes since you started ignoring me. Please stop giving me the cold shoulder, alright?" I freeze on the spot, the apology letter in my hand practically burning my fingers. As it turns out, it's not that he doesn't know what the silent treatment means—it's just that I've never been the person he wants to coax.

Adalah Arimbi seorang gadis desa. Manis,lucu dan polos. Harus menerima dijodohkan dengan pria bernama Sagara yang sama sekali tak dikenalnya. Pernikahan ini adalah bentuk dari pembayaran hutang piutang antara Ayah Sagara dan Joko, Ayah Arimbi. Sehari setelah pernikahan Arimbi baru mengetahui kalau Sagara telah memiliki istri. Bukan hanya itu Arimbi juga harus dihadapkan pada kenyataan penyimpangan seksual yang dimiliki oleh sang suami. Sagara hanya akan puas dan tersalurkan hasratnya bila dapat menyakiti dan menyiksa tak hanya pisik tapi juga psikis pasangannya. Bagaimana nasib Arimbi selanjutnya? Dapatkah ia bertahan dengan pernikahan tak sehat itu?