In West Side Story Does Maria Die

Liam Carter gave up the game years ago—along with the risks, the spotlight, and the chaos that came with it. Now, as the head coach of a rising football team, control is his currency. Discipline. Distance. And it works… until Noah Hayes shows up. Young, gifted, and reckless, Noah plays with fire—on and off the pitch. He’s a rising star who doesn’t follow rules, especially not the invisible ones. When he starts pushing at the lines Liam draws, the tension turns electric. Liam tells himself it’s nothing. Just heat. A test. A phase. But every lingering glance, every after-practice moment, chips away at the lie. And when desire threatens to upend everything, Liam has to choose: protect the life he’s built—or risk it all for the one person he shouldn’t want. A forbidden connection. A dangerous attraction. A love that could cost them everything.

My mother-in-law, Daisy Rothbart, gets pregnant around the same time I do. We even give birth to baby boys via cesarean sections on the same day. However, her infant dies later, and that's when she suddenly starts showering my son, Casey Dyson, with all her love and attention. After Casey officially takes over the family business one day, my husband, Jerome Dyson, and I die in an accident out at sea. However, my spirit remains close to Casey even after my death, and that's when I find out that he starts calling Daisy "Mom" while crying in relief. It is only then that I learn that the son I'd been bringing up for 20 years had been secretly switched at birth by none other than Daisy. When I open my eyes again, I realize that I'd traveled back in time to the day when Daisy and I were both scheduled to undergo cesarean sections at the hospital.

My mother-in-law has gotten kidnapped, and yet my husband, Josiah Broadway, decides to celebrate the success of his childhood sweetheart, Vivian Spencer's performance with her. The kidnapper has requested a ten-million-dollar ransom. If he doesn't receive the money in his bank account in an hour, he'll kill the hostage immediately. But my calls to Josiah's phone never go through. When there's only one minute left on the timer, Josiah calls me back calmly. "Since that hag is already that old, she might as well die. I'm not wasting my money on her." Just like that, my mother-in-law is thrown into the sea by the furious kidnapper. The search-and-rescue team has to resort to using long hooks in order to fish her corpse out of the sea. As soon as the body is delivered to the crematorium, Josiah sends me a voice message excitedly. "Have your mom's corpse sent to the studio! Vivian's performance needs a corpse anyway! Using a real corpse will make the whole performance seem more realistic!" I'm pissed off, to say the least. So, that bastard thinks that my mom is the one who died, huh? After that, I have my mother-in-law's corpse, which is completely disfigured from all the fishing and hooking, sent to the studio without any hesitation.

Angel Hale has spent her whole life worshipping one man. Vincent Hale. He was the man who adopted her after her parents died in a mysterious cold blooded murder by their enemies. To Angel, Vincent is perfection. His deep voice dampens her panties, his presence makes her knees go weak. She calls him Daddy, not by blood, but by obsession, desire, and the twisted bond she built around him since childhood. But Vincent has a dark secret, one that will turn Angel’s world upside down. Now she is stuck between two daddies. Uncle Daniel who wants to ruin her and Daddy who tells her she is his. Only his. But Angel cannot resist the desire of both men who want to claim her. Can she defy the Daddy she loved so blindly? Or will Daniel pull drag her back into his darkness forever? And even more terrifying… What will Daniel do when someone tries to take his doll away? Even if it’s his best friend. The war between Daddy and Uncle is coming—and Angel is the prize both are willing to spill blood to claim. PLEASE NOTE: This book is an extremely DARK EROTIC romance with HEAVY EXPLICIT scenes, torture, human trafficking. The main characters are the villains you don’t want to cross paths with. Be warned!!!

In a world of wars and betrayals, a world of racism and injustice, a world that applies the law of the jungle, a world ruled by force, only the strong write history. Religions and beliefs multiplied, and there were many gods, each sect believes in the god it deems powerful. The strong been worshiped and the weak waits for someone to protect him ,All this has produced for us one belief that has become one of the pillars in all religions. Most religions adopt the idea of ​​the "Savior", which claims in short that the world will remain full of evil and corruption until the appearance of the "Savior" who will fill the earth with justice and equity... Perhaps our problem on this earth is that most people are waiting for someone to come to fix their societies, instead of doing it. This is the story of the man who came from the western land and became the "Savior" only to destroy this belief. The man who thirsts for power reached its highest levels, and there he found the absolute truth behind what is called good and evil. How did he transform from a hero and king looking for justice to a man thirsting for power and revenge, from an innocent man to a man who might stain his fists with the blood of the gods if necessary, from a weak man to a man who rules the heavens and what is below.

My name is Elena, and I died at twenty-two. My parents forced me to take my foster sister’s place and traded me for a territorial alliance. My mate was the most volatile heir of the wolf packs. Beaten bloody and fading fast, I made my eighth call for help. At my adopted sister Seraphina’s birthday party, she played the recording of my final, groveling plea—and laughed. My parents listened to those desperate calls with nothing but irritation, dismissing each one as theatrics, an inconvenience unworthy of their time. My brother snarled over the phone, “Then just die already!” So I did. In the end, it was my three-year-old daughter who made the final call—using her smartwatch to video my mother, live-streaming the freezer where my severed head lay. Now, my spirit watches from above as they all, one by one, begin to unravel.

My future mother-in-law, Diane Grant, loved setting rules. On the day I proposed, she sat there with that smug, superior look and told me if I wanted to marry her daughter, Olivia Grant, I had to pass her so-called "son-in-law training", which was three months working as a food delivery driver. She said she wanted to test whether I could handle hardship. For my fiancee's sake, I kept my identity hidden. I was the heir to one of the most powerful families in Crestfall City, and I agreed without hesitation. For three months, I shed every trace of privilege. I worked from dawn to night, delivering orders across the city. My parents didn’t understand. My friends disapproved. Mrs. Grant watched me like a hawk, picking me apart every single day. "Three minutes late? That’s a $3,000 penalty. The wedding shall be delayed by a month!" "Wrong unit delivery, bad review? $8,000 penalty. You don’t get to see Olivia this week!" Even then, I never gave up. Until the final day. I received an urgent order with a massive tip. The note was in bold: "Lifesaving medication. Immediate delivery." I sped through the streets, pushing myself to the limit. Just as I was about to enter the residential compound, Mrs. Grant stepped in front of me, blocking my way, her face full of disdain. Her voice shot up sharply. "The wedding gift goes up to $200,000. Not a cent less." I looked at her look of absolute certainty and suddenly laughed. My finger slid across the screen. The recipient of that urgent order was her precious son, Christopher Grant. I slowly put away the unlimited card in my pocket, along with the check I had prepared for a million-dollar wedding gift. Originally, I had planned to reveal my identity that day to give her the surprise of a lifetime. It seemed there was no need.

The operation had just gone dark when the chatter started in the comms. “Easy, Zane. Don’t burn through another mattress.” A low laugh came through the headset. Relaxed. Careless. “I’ve been deployed for six months. I needed the release. And don’t let my wife hear that.” More laughter. “Right. Take care of the little mistress first, then call home and play devoted husband?” My phone rang. His voice when I answered was warm. Intimate. Soft in a way it never was on the field. He said he missed me. Said he counted the days until he could come home. I watched the live drone feed while he said it. What he didn’t know was that three months ago, I had quietly transferred into the family’s Strategic Intelligence division. Every operation his crew ran, I was the one behind the monitors—tracking shipments, rerouting safehouses, intercepting rival signals, listening to every word spoken over secured lines. The first night he slept with her, I logged the timestamp. 00:43 hours. When the call ended, I dialed another number—encrypted, family internal. “I’ll accept your offer,” I said calmly. “After this job, I’m stepping away.” The voice on the other end was steady. Controlled. Powerful. “You’ll leave after the Palermo Capture,” he replied. “I’ll personally see to your relocation.” A pause. “Three days.”

It had been ten years, and Ethan—my mate—and I still didn’t have a pup. One day, he suggested we adopt one from the Werewolf Orphan Charity Agency. “My mate,” he said gently, “pregnancy is too hard for you. You’d have to go through so many checkups and herbs. Your wolf shouldn’t have to suffer like that.” When others heard this, they all said Ethan loved me deeply—that he couldn’t bear to see me in pain. But I saw the truth with my own eyes. He took an infant pup from another she-wolf. “Luckily, Mia isn’t pregnant,” he said. “That way, the excuse of adopting an infant works—and the pup can have a legitimate status in my clan.” I knew that she-wolf well. The same one Ethan used to call a “stupid omega.” Swallowing the bitterness in my heart, I called my mentor at the Werewolf Research Academy. “I want to devote myself to herb research,” I said calmly. Three days from now, during the pup’s first New Moon blessing, I’ll fake my death in a fire. No one will be able to stop me.

"I'm in love with your body Soph, not you. . ." He doesn't do Love, He only does Fuck. He is a Son of the Devil, preferably, the first son.