I Was Sleeping

I have always come second to my step sister, she always got everything she wanted while I was ignored.. But at least I had him, or so I thought, until I realized that he was also not mine as if my life couldn't get any worse I ran into what could possibly be my doom or happy ending.

Happy 18th Birthday to me. I found my fated mate... cheating on me with my stepsister. Heartbroken, humiliated, and rejected, I made a vow. I wouldn't just cry; I would get even. In a fit of drunken rage, I stormed into the forbidden wing of the Pack House. I wanted to sleep with the most dangerous man I could find—just to prove I wasn't the weak omega my ex said I was. I found him in the shadows. Dark. Lethal. Possessive. I thought it was just a one-night stand with a stranger. A way to numb the pain. I was wrong. The next morning, when he walked into the pack meeting, the entire room fell to its knees. My ex-boyfriend trembled in fear and called him "Father." The man I slept with isn't just a rogue. He is Killian Blackwood—the ruthless Lycan King, and the most feared Alpha in the world. And now, he’s looking at me with hungry eyes. "You ran away this morning, little one," he growled, stepping over my ex to corner me against the wall. "But you can't run from this." He thinks he can claim me. He thinks I'll be his obedient Luna. But I have a secret. I'm pregnant with the King's heir... and I'm about to disappear.

Calliope: All my life my parents have sheltered me and now I find out not only am I a damn fairy, I have been promised to some psycho Warlock who thinks he's a God among women. DId he really think I would just drop to my knees right then and there in the damn dining room? Why does he have to be so damn hot....maybe once couldn't hurt, I can always leave tomorrow. I will show him who the God is here, he will be begging for me. Alexander: Who the hell does she think she is? She should be so lucky to be my wife, like she is some prize. This whole arrangement is ridiculous, I am only marrying her for her kingdom why should i care? I have to admit I wouldn't have a bad time with just a 5 minutes alone with her, no strings attatched, the things we could get up to....I'll have her begging me to marry her then ill be the one to cast her aside. Either way I will be her undoing.

Everyone in the northern territory knew that Damien Malfoy endured brutal punishment every year just for a chance to marry Vivian Locke. The traditions of the Dark Moon Pack required the Alpha to draw a fortune stick at the Moon Goddess Shrine to determine his true fated mate. Yet for three consecutive years, Damien drew fortune sticks that claimed Vivian was not his fated mate. Vivian thought they just had bad luck. It wasn't until the fourth year that she saw Damien switching the fortune sticks. Only then did she realize that Damien had been doing this for four years all because of Denise Ashford, the shewolf who pursued him. When Vivian finally became the Luna of another pack, Damien lost his mind and never marked another shewolf for the rest of his life.

I had gained thirty pounds after I was pregnant for six months. My husband, Jordan Smith felt disgusted by me. He would rather stay at work than come home, and he fell in love with his girl best friend, Holly Brown. On our wedding anniversary, they were acting intimately in a private room. Meanwhile, Holly was wearing my wedding gown. I saw the whole thing with my own eyes. She had her arms around Jordan’s neck and said to me coyly, “It’s not what you think.” Jordan was agitated after he was caught cheating on me. “I’ve known her since we were kids. We have been best friends for so many years. If something were to happen between us, it would have happened a long time ago.” However, I saw the hickey on Holly’s shoulder. She said to Jordan, “Your wife looks obese. My cousin didn’t gain a single pound after she had given birth. Instead, she looked even slimmer. Jordan, did your wife secretly eat pig feed?” Jordan felt embarrassed. He instructed someone to lock me in a bedroom and starve me for a few days. I suffered from a miscarriage. Indeed, I lost the weight on my abdomen, but Jordan went insane.

To the world, I was Mrs. Ward—the untouchable queen beside the mafia king of New York, Elias Ward. But I knew my husband never loved me. His heart had always belonged to Harper Dinah. His nephew’s wife. And after that nephew conveniently died, Elias brought her into our mansion, “I just want to take better care of her,” he’d said. And his version of “care” was where he’d throw a man out of a party for daring to flirt with Harper and got her pregnant. Elias likes to praise me in public like I was the perfect wife to him. And I was. I helped build his empire. I was the one who smiled and played nice. I made his casino shine while he hid Harper away like she was something sacred. Because of all that praising, one of his enemies set his sights on me. They took me. Sent Elias a message soaked in blood and threats: Back off. Leave New York. Or your pretty wife dies. Of course, Elias didn’t choose to back off.. “Just wait,” he said over the phone, “They won’t hurt you, Noa. You’re leverage. Just hold on until Harper gives birth. Then I’ll come for you.” Eight months of being held in a filthy hole, starved, beaten, degraded. The gang leader raped me over and over again. And still, Elias never came. Finally, I escaped when they were all drunk. Went home, only find my twins sleeping in the maid’s room, eating scraps while Elias was too busy hosting a party for his newborn. I didn’t confront him, just packed my babies and disappear.

Five years ago, I was the rising star of the nation’s top chemistry research lab, but on the eve of publishing the results of my study, my husband’s crush, Grace, killed me. She made several people violate me and cut my face up. Then, she injected sulfuric acid into my stomach, crushed my teeth and bones, and discarded my body without anyone’s knowledge. At that time, I was three months pregnant. But she told everyone that I stole the project’s research results and fled to another country. Jim, my husband, personally wrote a report to the government to label me as a globally wanted criminal. Five years later, a livestreamer who did nighttime explorations found my dried-up corpse in the basement of an abandoned warehouse.

The story revolves around Blythe who after participating in a competition falls in love with his room partner Andrew because of which she soon ends up proposing him which shocks Andrew but he takes some time in order to process her proposal but unfortunately ends up declining her proposal due to which she is broken but real shock comes on her way when she comes to know that there is no one with the name of Andrew in the competition which makes her set on a journey to find Andrew , so will she be able to find him ?, Will she be able to prove that he really exists ?, And many other questions will form crux of the story and will surely keep its readers at the edge of their seats as it is a never witness love story which is amalgamated with almost every kind of emotions a human have and most most importantly don't miss the climax as it is going to blow mind if it's readers for sure

My boyfriend was crippled when he saved me, while his adoptive sister suffered from heart failure after protecting us from misfortune. She had to depend on the expensive imported medicines to sustain life. To pay for their treatment, I sold myself as a lifecasting model on the black market. Not only were my hands and feet coated in the heated silicon, but I also needed to endure strangers touching me without flinching. I needed to pay if the replica was damaged. I begged through my tears, only to receive a few slaps to my face in return. They scolded, "You signed up for this. Don't act innocent now." Humiliated, exhausted, and aching, I still took the money straight to the hospital to buy medicine for his sister. When I passed by the VIP lounge, I heard a familiar laughter. "Chris, this is the 998th test, isn't it? Are you really marrying her once she passes the 999th test?" With a slight frown, Christopher answered, "Yeah. Although testing her is a family tradition, and they're having you to supervise, don't overdo it. I won't have another bride." I froze. Every sacrifice. Every humiliation. Every bit of pain I had endured—it had all been a test. A game to see whether I was worthy of marrying him. Staring at my bruised reflection in the fire-resistant glass, I let out a sudden chuckle. Then, with trembling hands, I turned on the old phone I hadn't touched in two years. I felt tears roll down my cheeks when I told the other person on the line, "Declan, take me home. I regret everything."

Adrian Moretti’s adopted sister—She knew perfectly well that I suffered from severe asthma and could not be exposed to smoke or strong scents. Yet during the yacht reception, she deliberately dragged me onto the open deck, where cigars burned nonstop and the wind howled. Within seconds, my chest tightened. When I reached for my inhaler, my blood ran cold. It was empty. I collapsed against the railing, gasping violently, my lungs burning as if they were collapsing in on themselves. She crouched beside me and smiled. “You’re always so dramatic. It’s just a little smoke. You don’t need to act like you’re dying,” she said softly. “You’re too weak. You need to build some tolerance.” I looked toward Adrian, my vision already blurring. “Adrian,” I choked. “Give me my inhaler. If I don’t use it right now, I’m going to suffocate.” He frowned slightly. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” he said coldly. “I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a bit of smoke. She’s right—you’re always seeking attention. We finally gathered tonight, and you’re ruining it.” My heart dropped. I fumbled for my phone and called my mother. “Mom,” I sobbed, barely able to breathe. “I’m being bullied… and I can’t breathe.” My voice shook violently.