Incident Antonym

He is a star. The biggest artist in the world. His life is never private. Heck! how can his life be? His father is one of the world most richest and most influential men. His mother, who was once an actress and supermodel, now owns a huge clothing line. Immediately at his birth, he was crowned heir to both empires. So, his life has been for public showcases. She is a nerd whose life is being defined by her GP. Attending one of the most prestigious universities in the world due to a scholarship. She sticks her nose further in her books,a social outcast. Not that she minded anyway. With an aim in mind to help her family out of their debts and misery, she strives to be the best. Fate seems to have other plans for her as she meets this megastar in an unseemly when she is mistaken as an obsessed fan and got her ankle sprained by his body guard. What happens when he can not get her out of his mind, and she is back to forgetting him. And he makes it his mission to find her. What's installed for two polar opposites who find a way to meet each other. "I would not tell anybody about today's incident, not that I have anybody to tell, really." Gemma said as the van stopped in front of the hospital "I am sorry for what he did. Please don't go around telling people about this." Kayden said to her. "For the 100th, I won't tell anyone, and I don't know you or even care." Gemma said as she limped down from the van. "I am sorry, when I go live on stargram, just leave a comment like it's broken ankle." Kayden said, giving her an apologetic smile.

After the kidnapping incident, seventeen (17) year old “STILES,” lost his memories. The memory loss He had wasn't a sweet romantic dream, but an horrible nightmare. The torture he received from his kidnappers warped his brain and made him a psycho, a freak; a “MANIAC”. He was agitated by almost everyone and everything. He could hardly control his emotions. Stiles was like a volcano, ready to erupt at anytime. Just a little trigger, boom! he'll explode. Releasing tons of cusswords, striking out at anyone who loved him. He couldn't help it. His fleeting thoughts were tormentors, a torture He could hardly escape. He lived in hate and anger. He never wanted to be that way. Deep down his guts He simply wanted to be kind to everyone. He had a loving heart. He could still take the right choice, but his brain, was a tormentor. When ever it is triggered He loses self control. He is doing the actions, but deep his guts, He wanted it all to stop. but He just couldn't. As time went on. Poor old Stiles discovered he had telepathic and telekinetic abilities. Gradually he also regained his lost memories. He fully regained his “MEMORIES” the day he came face to face with the leader of his Kidnappers, the heartless punk who transformed poor old stiles into a “MANIAC.” Stiles wanted to take revenge on the Devil incarnate. But frustration hits Stiles when he discovers that the man who made his life a living hell was no other person but the father of his Girlfriend. “LOVER” So what is Stiles gonna do? Go ahead and his take revenge on his kidnapper, or just let the old dog lie.

"Finders keepers," Deangelo growled, his voice all sharp edges. "I found her first, commoners, she belongs to me. The only reason she's still breathing is because I saved her from that fucking fire." Romano snorted, pushing his way further inside. "You think you can just claim her like that? She's not a damn trophy, Scorpion." Fernando gave a series of hand gestures in sign language. Deangelo translated, "You may have found her, but that does not make her yours. We have a stake here, Papi." Vincenzo's voice cut like a knife through the tension. "This isn't some playground game. She's a person, not a prize to be fought over?" As their voices rose, they suddenly fell silent, snapping their eyes to Rosita. She was rushing towards the door. DeAngelo's eyes narrowed as he took a step towards her. "Little peasant, don't even think about it." **** Rosita's life has been anything but ordinary. Homeschooled and sheltered by her overprotective father after a near-fatal stalking incident, she dreams of escaping to college and pursuing her passion for music. But her father's plans to enroll her in an online university leave her feeling trapped and desperate. On the day, she finally decides to away, a fire overtakes their home, trapping her in her room. Just when she thinks all hope is lost, her metal door is broken down—not by her father, but by Deangelo Luis Valladares, the most-feared mafia drug lord in the whole of Mexico. With an intriguing, sinister smile, he extends his hand to Rosita through the smoke-filled room. Will Rosita take his hand and let him save her, or will she be taken by force? Can a breathtaking beauty like Rosita survive in a world ruled by mafia dons who live like kings and control Mexico City?

"Saffron, I asked you a question. What happened to your dress?" Atlas asked again like he cared. Why was he calling her name like they were pals? How did he even know her name? This was the first time in seven years that they talked. Atlas isn't one to care about mere workers in the mansion, let alone commit their names to memory. So why her? Ignoring Atlas was not an option, so she parted her lips. "I–" Saffron was about to lie her way through when she caught sight of Caspian walking over. "Talk to me! Did Caspian do this to you?!" Atlas frowned and grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look his way. "How did–" so this was it? Atlas orchestrated last night's incident? He set her up! Now Caspian would think she was involved with Atlas! There's no way for her to prove her innocence anymore... "Ahh!" Saffron cried out loud and moved back with her rear hitting the wall. She slid down slowly until she was sitting on the floor, bawling her eyes out. "I'm just an insignificant Chef who is only here to work, please I beg you, let me live… waaah… I want to live…!" She continued crying as she lamented sorrowfully like she was already having her last minute of life. Caspian walked past without acknowledging any of them with a mere glance. After he ambled out of the corridor, Atlas moved away and glared condescendingly at Saffron, "Don't think too highly of yourself. You've served your purpose. You were a mere pawn." ... Saffron, a Chef who wanted nothing but a simple life, ended up becoming a pawn in a life and death's game for three brothers. However, time will tell if she's a pawn, or the Queen on the chess board.

Evonne Shannon was a poor student mother sponsored. She was also the crush I had been courting for a long time. Wanting to allow her to shine, I gave up my place in the piano competition for her. However, she glared at me with disdain for deciding this on my own. She then instantly turned around and handed the registration form to her boyfriend, Angelo Zambrano, and said, "Ange, only you deserve this competition." Evonne liked sports cars, so I begged my mother to buy her a limited-edition McLaren supercar. But in return, Evonne mocked me and called me shallow. "Don't think I'll accept you just because I'm accepting the car, Chase Shannon. You've never understood me." With my help, Evonne got to put on a facade of a mysterious billionaire's daughter. But the moment she got money from me, she turned around and went on a romantic getaway with Angelo. I thought of Evonne as my everything and even asked my mother to arrange for her to join the family company. Within half a year, she was promoted to a core team member. She then conspired with Angelo to drain the company dry and even forced me to my death. "What else can you do besides insult me with money and a materialistic lifestyle, Chase? You're the most disgusting obstacle on my path to success. Only when you're dead can I marry Ange," she declared. I was heartbroken when I heard this, and that was when Evonne pushed me off the sidewalk and into traffic. Immediately after that incident, I was reincarnated to the day I bought Evonne a piano. She was glaring at me with disdain. "If you don't want to buy it, just say so. There's no need to humiliate me like this." I let out a dismissive scoff. "Am I the one who's humiliating you, or are you the shameless one? You beg for food but complain that it's cold. You're worse than those stray dogs on the streets. At least they show gratitude after getting scraps."

Bah voilà jme présente ! Moi, c'est Zaïna, orpheline, j'ai 15 ans, je suis Comorienne mais avant tous Musulmane. Malheureusement je ne sais pas pratiquer. J'y connais rien. On ne m'a jamais apprise. On m'a poser à mes 1 ans apparemment. Bref ma vie jvous la racontera après. Bref physiquement ? Jfais 1m60, un truck comme ça ! J'ai une couleur de peau matte. J'ai un corps normal et les formes la où il faut. J'ai les yeux marron claiiiir qui vire au marron foncé quand jsuis énervé. Les cheveux noir/marron, tous est en fonction du soleil. A l'ombre tu les verras noir et au soleil tu les verras marron. Bref ils sont long et y'a beaucoup de volume ! Mais personne sais. C'est chignon ou natte, jamais je les montre. Bref assez parler dmon physique. Jsuis une meuf genre qui parl pas, qui calcule personne mais quand il faut j'ai une grosse bouche et sa peut aller loin en deux quatre six. Dans cette orphelinat, jparle à dégun depuis le drame (A suivre...). On m'appelle même la "muette". Ok leur délire mais m'en bas les couilles je leur répond pas. J'ai un coeur en pierre, double portes blindé, double serrure et trois codes. Rien ne m'atteint à part mon passer mais personne la connait. Bref mes journées se passe comme ça: Réveille => école => boxe => chambre et je bouge plus de la journée. Ah oui oui depuis cette incident j'ai décidé de plus me laisser faire. Mes parents ? Même vu pas jparle. Ils m'ont abandonné dès ma naissance tsssss et voilà ou je suis maintenant DANS UN ORPHELINAT DE MERDE . A suivre...