Hyperspermia Pills

I had proposed seven times, but Winnie Smith continued refusing to marry me. This was because the Smith family had a special test. To marry their daughters, their sons-in-law had to refrain from sleeping with their fiancees after being drugged. I tried seven times. However, every time after I regained consciousness, Winnie would be sleeping naked next to me. She would cry and throw herself into my arms. “It’s fine. We can try again. I trust you.” It was not until the eighth time that I overheard her instructing the butler, “Switch the aphrodisiac to sleeping pills, and make sure it’s a high dosage. “After he falls asleep, I’ll take it from there as usual.” While I kept my eyes shut tight, I could hear her taking off her long dress. Then, she came over to unbutton my shirt. I heard her sigh. “I’m sorry, Benjamin Lowe. Joe Anderson’s been diagnosed with cancer, and his last wish is to be with me. “Don’t worry, though. After he passes, I’ll marry you immediately.” Right then, I realized that her family’s test had been a lie she told just to marry her childhood best friend. The next day, my parents pressured me again to leave the country and inherit the family business. So, I agreed to their request. Since she wanted to marry Joe, I would wish the couple well.

By the third year of my marriage to Daniel Hawthorne, the war had already taken more than it ever returned, and this time it took his younger brother, Thomas Hawthorne. My sister-in-law, Eleanor, collapsed, and in the weeks that followed she tried to follow her husband into death— once with sleeping pills, once by the river beyond the officers’ quarters— only to be dragged back both times, each time clinging to me afterward as though I were the last thing keeping her grounded. I stayed with her, wiped her tears, and whispered that Thomas would want her to live, until the day she received the test results confirming she was three months pregnant, and the grief of losing her husband was slowly softened by the arrival of new life. I smiled too, believing grief had finally loosened its grip. That night, holding my own pregnancy test in my hand and thinking it was finally time to tell Daniel, I passed the study and heard his friend say quietly, “She’s carrying your child. You convinced the doctors to adjust the timeline so everyone would believe the baby belonged to your brother. Aren’t you afraid Margaret will find out?” Daniel didn’t hesitate. “She won’t,” he said calmly. “She loves me. She wouldn’t leave. I won’t let her know.” I didn’t step inside. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I opened the letter I had received weeks earlier— an official deployment order from the international medical corps, assigning me to a frontline war zone— and tapped Accept.

In my past life, I was trafficked and gave birth to a son. When Noah Barrett turns six, I plan to take him and escape from the mountains. On my first attempt, I map out the route in advance and prepare to flee with him. But in the morning, my mother-in-law, Ruth Whitaker, blocks me at the door. She ties me up and locks me inside the shed. Then, she starves me for three days. On my second try, I secretly buy sleeping pills from an unlicensed village doctor and slip them into dinner. At the table, Ruth flips the table without hesitation and beats me until I am half dead. The third time, I take advantage of a village meeting and escape with Noah again. We hide in a concealed mountain cave. Neither of us makes a sound, yet Ruth finds us with ease. I am dragged back and locked away in the pigpen. Ruth takes a shovel and strikes me with it again and again. "You filthy bitch. You dare run off with my precious grandson!" Her eyes are bloodshot. With the final blow, she uses all her strength and smashes the shovel into my head. I collapse to the ground. My consciousness fades. My blood drains away, and I die. When I open my eyes again, I am back on the day I plan to escape the mountains with Noah. Suddenly, I can hear Noah's thoughts, his voice clear and dripping with viciousness. "Mom can't be allowed to run. Grandma says Mom is our family's slave. She's supposed to serve us for her whole life."

Isang pagkakamali ang nagawa ni Aria ng gabing iyon. Hindi sapat ang kinikita niya bilang janitress sa isang fastfood chain, kasabay ng kaniyang pag-aaral sa kolehiyo. Dahil sa kahirapan ng pamumuhay ay nagawa niyang tanggapin ang alok sa kanya ng kapit bahay niyang nagtatrabaho sa club, dahil kailangang maoperahan ang kaniyang tatay sa lalong madaling panahon. Hindi lingid sa kaalaman ni Aria na isa s'yang ampon, natagpuan na lang ito ng pamilyang kumopkop sa kanya noong sanggol pa lamang ito sa tabi ng dalampasigan noon. Hindi nito alam na ang lalaking kumuha ng serbisyo nito ng gabing iyon ay maimpluwensyang tao likas na mayaman at tinitingala ng lahat. FUCKLERS DAX MONTEFALCO 25year old isang multi billionaire at businessman ng bansa na nilagyan ni Aria ng sleeping pills ang iniinum nitong alak upang hindi makuha nito ang matagal na n'yang iniiangatan pagkakababae. Sa edad ni Aria na 20 year old ay wala pa itong nagiging karelasyon kaya ganun na lamang ang pag-iingat nito sa kanyang sarili. Paano kaya matatakasan ni Aria ang lalaking pilit syang hinahanap upang maparusahan sa pagkakasalang panloloko nito sa lalaki? Sana inyo pong subaybayan ang kwento nila Mr. Fucklers Dax Montefalco at ni Aria Zelle Celedonio sa LOVE IN THE TIME OF CHAOS Bastarda Series-two akda ni J.C.E CLEOPATRA.

On the day of my birthday, I'm burning with a fever that almost hits 104 degrees Fahrenheit. Because of that, I've called Tristan Graham more than a dozen times. He never picks up any of them. In the end, my dad has to take me to the hospital. When we walk past a corridor, he suddenly stops in his tracks. "Mr. Graham? What are you doing here?" I raise my head to see Tristan and Madison Franklin walking from the OBGYN department. Their fingers are tightly laced together. Tristan is even carrying a bag of medication. Birth control pills as well as ointment meant to be used on private parts can be seen in that bag. My mind goes blank at that moment. All I can do is stare at Tristan. As soon as our eyes meet, Tristan frowns slightly at me, though his gaze only lingers on me for a second before he turns to look at my dad. "I'll be hosting a banquet in the garden tomorrow night. Remember to decorate the garden nicely." Dad quickly accepts the order. "Don't worry, Mr. Graham. When Luna's fever breaks out, I'll deal with this task right away." Tristan is momentarily stunned by Dad's words. When he notices my unnaturally flushed cheeks, he instinctively takes a step toward me. But that's when Madison tugs his sleeve. "Stop wasting precious time on a gardener's daughter, Tristan. Let's go. I'm still in pain, you know." Tristan stops in his tracks instantly. Then, he leaves with Madison. Later on, he pays for my hospital bills. Our seven-year underground relationship that's considered a taboo is also paid off as well.

I was seventeen when Rowan Ashcroft promised we’d disappear together. I was eighteen when my father sold me to a man who wanted to own my blood. For twelve years, I was the perfect trophy wife to the ruthless Alpha Julian Cross. To the world, I was untouchable, beautiful, obedient, and carefully medicated to keep my true nature buried. In reality, I was a locked vault, a prisoner hiding a forbidden Silver Omega lineage that the supernatural Council had spent generations trying to erase. But the haze of the pills is fading, and a secret is growing inside me. I am pregnant. And I know exactly what Julian will do when he finds out his "perfect wife" is carrying a child that shouldn't exist. So, I run. I don’t get far before the Council’s executioner finds me. Rowan Ashcroft steps out of the shadows wearing the silver marks of an Enforcer and the same cold eyes I once trusted with my life. He isn't here to save me. He’s here because my bloodline and my unborn child are worth killing for. Instead of ending my life, Rowan offers a lethal contract: Three months. A fake mating bond. Absolute protection from the Council. The bond is supposed to be a lie, a way to cloak my scent and hide me in plain sight. But as Rowan’s mark burns into my skin, it awakens something ancient and primal in my blood. I was never just an Omega meant to be owned. I am the return of a legend they thought they’d killed. Julian wants his property back. The Council wants me dead. But they are about to learn what happens when the woman they tried to erase finally becomes Untouchable.

My husband, an Army regimental commander, was killed in action. Before his body was even cold, I didn't hesitate. I filed for his death certificate and notified the Army, the Social Security Administration, and our bank. Then, three days later—on the very day his twin brother married his childhood sweetheart—I moved out, changed the locks, and remarried quietly at the courthouse, taking my son and the full line-of-duty death benefits with me. To everyone else, I was heartless. Cold. I let them curse me. I just looked into my “brother-in-law's” bloodshot eyes and felt a quiet, cruel satisfaction. Only I knew the truth. In my last life, I discovered the body sent home wasn't my husband's at all—it was his identical twin brother's. I ran to confront him, but by chance I overheard him and my mother-in-law whispering. "Mom, Sarah is strong. And we have our son. She'll be okay. The benefits will take care of her. But Amy has waited for my brother all these years. If she finds out he's dead, she might do something drastic." Their words struck me like lightning. I tried to expose them, but my husband knocked me out. He told everyone grief had driven me insane. He locked me in the garage apartment and, with cold detachment, married his sweetheart. And when that woman complained my son was too loud, my husband slipped sleeping pills into our boy's juice—right as my crying child was coming to look for me. My son never woke up. The day they buried him hastily, I ended my life in the garage, utterly broken. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day they delivered my brother-in-law's body to our home.

She died fat, broken, and unloved, but she came back ready to burn it all down. Catherine Vale has one memory seared into her soul from her past life: the feeling of her mother-in-law's hands draining the life from her body while her new husband pretended not to hear her screams. Reborn on her wedding day, Catherine knows that marrying Anderson Vale means death. So she does the unthinkable, she runs from the altar in her wedding dress and boards the honeymoon jet alone. Her destination is Las Vegas and her plan is to get drunk and forget everything. What she gets instead is waking up married to Davis McFanger, the most powerful hybrid alive and her runaway groom's father. Davis doesn't believe in coincidences, and he's convinced Catherine is another trap sent by his manipulative ex-wife to destroy him. But the mating bond doesn't lie, and neither does the heat that forces them together night after night, even when he can barely look at her come morning. Catherine is hiding secrets even she doesn't understand. The pills she's been taking for seven years to keep her stable might be poison designed to suppress her powers. Her so-called mental illness might be a lie fed to her by the same people who killed her and the power trying to claw its way out of her skin, burning her from the inside out might be exactly what they murdered her to steal. As her phoenix abilities violently awaken, Catherine faces an impossible choice: trust the cold, ruthless man who claims her desperately in the dark but refuses to acknowledge her in the light, or face her killers alone and risk dying a third time.

The doctor told me I had 72 hours left, unless I got access to the newest experimental treatment. However, there was only one slot available, and my husband Bowen Liddell gave it to my sister Yvonne Lawson instead. "Her kidney failure is more critical," he said. I nodded and swallowed the white pills that would only speed up my death. In the time I had left, I got a lot done. The lawyer's hand trembled as he passed me the documents. "Are you sure you want to transfer the two billion dollars in shares?" I replied, "Yes. Give them to Yvonne." My daughter, Candice Liddell, was giggling in Yvonne's arms. "Mommy Yvonne bought me a new dress!" I said, "It looks beautiful. Make sure you always listen to Mommy Yvonne, okay?" The art gallery I built from the ground up now had Yvonne's name on the sign. "You're too kind, Kathy," she said, crying. I told her, "You'll run it even better than I ever did." I even signed all my parents' trust fund away. That was when Bowen finally gave me his first genuine smile in years. "Kathleen, you've changed. You're not so aggressive anymore... You're beautiful like this." Indeed. This dying version of me finally became the 'perfect Kathleen Sullivan' in their eyes—obedient, generous, and no longer argumentative. The 72-hour countdown had already begun, and I couldn't help but wonder what they would remember when my heart stopped for good. The good wife who 'finally learned to let go', or the woman who completed her revenge by dying?

There's an unspoken rule in my household—everyone has to engage in a drinking competition during the holidays. Whoever gets wasted first will have to pay off one year's worth of house and car mortgages for the other two siblings. In the first year, I collapsed after my first glass of alcohol. I had to pay the house mortgage for my oldest sister, Dahlia Zeller. In the second year, as soon as I picked up my glass, I fainted right away. Since then, I had to pay off Jasmine Zeller, my second sister's car loan. For the next 20 years, I've always been the loser. In the end, my wife, Jean McCarthy, is forced to jump off a building because of the huge debt I've racked up. The debtors keep dumping paint onto my residence, forcing me to deter away from it. Ransacked by guilt, I end up damaging my stomach from overdrinking when I attempt to train my alcohol tolerance. As a result, half of my liver has gotten removed. When I'm on the verge of death, I hear my parents snickering outside my ward. "Don't you think we've laced too many sleeping pills in his drink? He almost didn't wake up back then!" "It's fine. He's an idiot who merely thinks he has a low alcohol tolerance. Our family still relies on him for financial survival, you see. We can keep drugging him so that he'll keep getting wasted." When I open my eyes again, I've already gotten reborn in the timeframe when I'm sitting at the dining table in the 20th year.