Novel & Cerita How To Draw The Chaos Emeralds

According to the Winslow family's rules that are passed down for generations, anyone who wants to marry into the family must draw a tarot card. But I have drawn 99 times, and every single card is a bad one. Before the 100th draw, I see Clara Winslow replace all the Lovers cards in the deck. She says, "No matter how many times he tries, he will only draw the worst cards." I finally realize that she does not love me at all. That is fine because I no longer want to marry her either. I toss the cards aside and call my parents. "I accept the arranged marriage with the Shaws."

In the third year of chasing the famously untouchable Hayden Lane, I still hadn't managed to marry him. The Lane family had an old rule. Any woman who wanted to marry into the family had to personally draw a fortune stick and receive a supreme blessing. I tried ninety-nine times. Every single time, the result was the worst possible omen. Before my hundredth draw, I personally saw Hayden replacing every fortune stick inside the cylinder. "No matter how many times she tries, she can only draw the worst omen." At that moment, I finally understood that he truly didn't love me. But that was fine. I didn't want to marry him anymore either. I tossed the fortune cylinder aside and turned away. Then I called my parents. "I accept the marriage alliance with the York family."

It honestly feels like I've been transported back to the Middle Ages. For the benefit of my pack, I just swore an oath to a man I've never met. The pack where I'm supposed to be the leader. The pack I'm not sure how to lead. I should learn fast, though. Because here he is, out of the blue, almost catching me by surprise. His green eyes, which shine like polished emeralds, make me stop in my tracks. His sharp jaw and short beard give him a dangerous look. His words of superiority, which were as smooth as velvet, hurt me deeply. So, this is my very hot husband who doesn't care about anything. I'm not even close to ready for this marriage. But he just walks into my space, all lean muscle and stalking grace. I have to use everything I have to get myself and the situation under control. What the heck did I sign up for?

The new intern, Cynthia Joller, had posted about me online, claiming the company had made them use their leave for team building. No one wanted to fly all the way to an island to spend time with colleagues. However, what the internet did not know was that our company's team-building tradition involved booking a top-notch five-star resort every year: all-inclusive, family-friendly, with an extra three days of paid leave, and a $30,000 budget per person. The whole internet dubbed me a cold-blooded capitalist, so I decided to give in to their demands and issued a notice. [In response to employee feedback and to honor personal time, this year's team-building retreat has been canceled. Instead, a $500 allowance for personal travel will be provided.] The notice stirred up a commotion in the company. Long-time employees gathered at my office door, pleading for the return of the sunny Madiles retreat.

I set up a company cafeteria for employees with an abundant meal daily worth 150 dollars per person. Meals are prepared by a world-renowned master chef. Every day, I only ask my employees to contribute a token of one dollar. Instead of gratitude, all I get is their envy of the neighboring company. "I wish we had that. Their healthy lunches cost them nothing, and the company covers everything." "Yeah. Free salads always seem to taste the best." Before long, this chatter spreads through the office, and the new hires carry it into the company's group chat. "Mr. Shaw, can we switch things up? All this rich, heavy food is just too much for us!" A few of the senior employees quickly jump in. "Yes, Mr. Shaw! We're not asking for anything extravagant. We only want something like the healthy lunches the other company gives out for free!" Perfect. They ignore my lavish 150-dollar meals that cost them almost nothing, yet they pine over the neighboring company's modest lunches. I scroll through the chat, feeling nothing but sharp irony. I immediately send a company-wide email. "Attention, everyone! By popular demand, and so you can all experience a truly free lunch, the cafeteria's daily meal is reduced from abundant to simple starting today. "Snacks and fruit options are discontinued and replaced with the same healthy lunch set offered by the neighboring company. The company will cover the full cost. Enjoy your meal!"

At the engagement banquet, Monique Walton is in the middle of telling all the guests and the viewers of the livestream that's taking place about our tale of romance. What she doesn't know is that I have already swapped out the romantic video of our sweet memories for the racy clip of her and Terry Caldwell going at it like rabbits. When the clip is presented on the monitor, everyone falls silent immediately. That's when the live comments on the livestream instantly overwhelm the comment section. Monique turns around in a fluster, the well-maintained smile on her face starting to crack bit by bit. She stumbles toward the control panel, accidentally knocking over the champagne tower in her haste. Amid the chaos, I draw to my feet and walk onto the stage. Then, I pick up the microphone Monique has just dropped. "Everyone, this engagement banquet is officially canceled. From now on, Monique Walton and I are no longer affiliated with each other."

My grandmother only knows how to draw one thing—infants. They're ugly, but people line up to buy the paintings. I watch as she takes those women into unlit rooms. Then, their bloodcurdling screams will ring out. Oddly enough, they always thank my grandmother when they're leaving. One day, I finally find out what exactly my grandmother paints. I discover the truth when I see an infant crawl out of one of the women's bellies—it looks just like the one my grandmother has painted.

Ever since my mom gave birth to her second child, everything in the household is tied to drawing lots. Everyone has to draw lots in order to decide whose favorite food will be served for each meal. We have to draw lots to see who among us gets a hug from our parents. Every time, I end up drawing the short end of the stick, so everyone automatically assumes that my younger sister, Anabelle Madden, gets the better lot. She easily reaps my parents' love without having to do anything at all. Whenever I feel like crying because of the injustice, Mom will scold me instantly. "I bought the lottery box because I was worried that you might feel upset about this. I'm doing this just to be fair to both of you. "If you want something, you have to be the one deciding who gets what. Your father and I won't interfere with your decision at all. Since you can't draw the better lot, that just means you have bad luck." Hence, I keep practicing my lot-drawing skills every day, hoping that I can eventually draw the better lot in order to obtain my parents' love. But for ten years, I never get to draw the better lot. Not even once. On my birthday, Anabelle wants to go to the amusement park, so Mom tells us to draw lots once again. I secretly glue two short lots together before giving it to Mom in an attempt to get her to stay with me. Instead, she slaps me and berates me for being a disobedient child who cheats in lot-drawing. Then, she leaves the house with Anabelle. When I fall to the floor, I feel the short sticks piercing through my neck.

I'm a socially awkward omega. They are alphas who live in the spotlight. We are complete opposites, but for some reason they want me. I'm not going to deny it, there's something about them that pulls me closer, but things are complicated. I didn't want to burden them with all my baggage when they have the chance of finding an omega who suited their lifestyle. No matter how hard I try to push them away, they always find a way to draw me closer. And like they say, they aren't planning on stopping until they claim me as their omega. *** AN NON-SHIFTER REVERSE HAREM AGE GAP OMEGAVERSE NOVEL ***

“You don’t know the pit you’ve dug yourself in, Ms. Elena Lubov. Can you honestly tell me that if I slit your neck right now, you can still love me?” Michael asked as the knife on Elena’s neck began to cut slowly and draw a bit of blood. Their gazes never wavered. “I’ll cut my throat on your behalf, Michael, if it would make you believe in every word that I say” she said without fear, “I have nothing to lose.” she whispered. When the most powerful mafia boss finds out his past never existed, how can he keep his madness from destroying the future he created? When power and money is useless, what can the words of the dead do for those left behind? “You don’t know the pit you’ve dug yourself in, Ms. Elena Lubov. Can you honestly tell me that if I slit your neck right now, you can still love me?” Michael asked as the knife on Elena’s neck began to cut slowly and draw a bit of blood. Their gazes never wavered. “I’ll cut my throat on your behalf, Michael, if it would make you believe in every word that I say” she said without fear, “I have nothing to lose.” she whispered. When the most powerful mafia boss finds out his past never existed, how can he keep his madness from destroying the future he created? When power and money is useless, what can the words of the dead do for those left behind?