Interstellar Bookshelf Scene 소설 & 이야기

In the eighth year of my marriage to Georgia Snow, her 108th lover, John, showed up and made a scene in front of me. In the past, she would have dealt with anyone this bold before they even reached me. However, she broke from her usual pattern this time. She indulged his behavior and allowed him to taunt me. Georgia even brought him along to high-profile events. She turned a blind eye to all the rumors circulating everywhere. She even dared to skip my family banquet. When I saw the photos my secretary had sent over, Georgia was in a high-end restaurant enjoying a meal with John. The next second, I showed the photos to her mother. Georgia and I were in a business marriage. We had agreed from the start that we could each do as we pleased. With that said, there was an unspoken rule. We had to keep up appearances and maximize the combined interests of both families. Since she refused to follow the rules, I had to ditch her, lest she affected my family business’ stock price.

After blowing through 15 million, which was my wedding gift from the Masons, I turned myself in for marriage fraud. That was when the housekeeper's daughter, Hannah Castillo, panicked. On May 5th, Castillo Enterprise and Mason Group were set to unite through marriage. I was meant to be the bride, but instead, I was locked away in a dark storage room. By the time I fought my way to the ceremony, Hannah had already finished the wedding using my identity. I went onstage and said I was the Castillos' real daughter, only to be questioned by everyone in the company. The reason was simple: Hannah had been using my name and status openly inside the company for the past six months. Hannah kicked me to the ground and sneered, "You're the housekeeper's kid! How dare you make a scene!" Before I could pull out any proof, the bodyguards Hannah hired dragged me out and dumped me on the road. A car ran into me, and I died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day before the wedding.

I knew perfectly well that open flames were forbidden at a gas-leak scene, yet as a firefighter, I still backed my girlfriend's childhood friend when he insisted on lighting a cigarette "to calm his nerves." In my previous life, a sudden gas leak erupted during a gathering. Her childhood friend insisted on smoking to steady himself. I slapped the lighter out of his hand and yelled at him for trying to get us all killed. Humiliated, he ignored everyone's attempts to stop him and stormed outside—only to be crushed by an advertising board blown loose by the explosion's shockwave. Later, when I saved a child who had fallen from a building and was left hanging in midair myself, my girlfriend—my second-in-command—maliciously cut my safety rope. She stared at my corpse and said, "If you hadn't humiliated George in front of everyone, he wouldn't have died." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that room thick with the stench of leaking gas.

I had been in a relationship with Zachary Dawson for seven years and engaged for three when, out of the blue, Ruby White, the daughter of his mentor, moved into our home. Sitting casually on the bed that Zachary and I shared, Ruby lounged with an air of nonchalance, her voice playful and teasing. "Zachary, the dental god, sure has a nice bed," she remarked with a smirk. "I can only imagine what it would be like to spend the night with him in this bed." I captured the scene on my phone and sent the video to our family group chat with a brief message: Looks like Zachary might have a new girlfriend Zachary rushed home, wrapping his arms protectively around a tearful Ruby. He pointed at me, his voice seething with anger. "My mentor's dying wish was for me to take care of Ruby! If you can't accept that, then move out!" Honestly, my brows furrowed deeper than the wrinkles on the bedsheets Ruby had sat on. Fine. I didn't need the bed, and I didn't need a fiancé anymore.

I heard a small "come in" from the other end. Grabbing the knob, I twist it before pushing the door open. My eyes widened as I saw the scene unfold in front of me. Xavier stood there in the room along with a woman whose brown hair ruffled all over the place. Her blood-red lipstick was smudged. She was dressed in a revealing top. Her breast almost spilling out of her dress and extra tight and small skirt as if she'd just come from some club, her arms crossed and her features amused. She looked strangely familiar for some reason, and it took me a while to identify her, but I did. She was the same woman I had bumped into on the market. My eyes swiftly turned to Xavier. He was dressed in a suit identical to the one Xavier wore with the top few buttons open. What caught my eyes the most was the lipstick stain on his neck identical to the one the woman had on. My heart slumped in deep dejection. It wasn't any science- rocket to know what had occurred here before my arrival.

Blaze shoved Carlo hard, his breath ragged. “Get the hell out of my way! I don’t need your help.” Carlo caught his balance, his lips curling into a taunting smirk. “Really? Because it looks like you’re drowning without me.” "And no matter where you go, I'll be the only man you'll come back to" Carlo slurs. **** Blaze is a street racer trying to pay off his father’s debt, desperate to win his freedom. Carlo is a rich son of a powerful family, living a life of luxury that Blaze can only dream of. But there’s one thing Carlo can’t buy—true passion. When the underground racing scene throws them into competition, their rivalry heats up. But after an unexpected one-night stand, a new kind of tension sparks between them. Suddenly, Blaze and Carlo find themselves drawn to each other in a way they never imagined. Now, they have to decide if they can put their hatred aside and risk everything for a love neither of them saw coming. But what happens when Blaze finds out Carlo's secret?

A kidnapper's gun was pressed to Lena's temple and mine, the whole scene streaming live online. "Nolan," the kidnapper said, "your wife, Donna, or your first love. Only one of them walks away alive. Choose." On the other side of the screen, my husband, Don Nolan Winston, head of the Winston family, did not hesitate for even a second. "Let Lena go. As for that woman, do whatever you want with her." I looked into the camera and laughed until tears ran down my face. For seven years, I had stood by him as he rose from the Winston family's illegitimate son to the first Don of the Italvia mafia. I had taken knives for him, drunk with him, even lost a child along the way. So in the end, in his eyes, I had been nothing more than a pawn he could discard at any moment. "Did you hear that?" the kidnapper sneered at me. I turned and ran toward the cliff. Facing the camera, I spoke my final words. "Nolan, I'm giving this life back to you. We're even now."

I woke up in the middle of the night to find my wife crying and begging me to let her see that young man one last time. "I’ll come right back after seeing him one last time. Please, I’m begging you." In our seven years of marriage, this was only the second time she’d spoken to me in such a pleading, ingratiating tone. The last time was when I caught the kid running out of her office, his clothes in disarray. Afraid I’d make a scene, she grabbed my hand and pleaded, "Honey, I promise I’ll cut him off. Please don’t divorce me. I’ll die without you." So, I gave her another chance. Just as she promised, she devoted herself to our family, becoming the perfect wife everyone admired. Until today. I turned on the bedside lamp, looked into her eyes, and told her seriously, "Go. Don’t leave yourself with any regrets." I had no regrets left. I hoped the same for you.

My wedding starts at 12:00 pm on the dot. There are 58 tables, each table costing 8888 dollars. 120 bottles of premium liquor have been opened. 300 packs of top-tier cigarettes are unsealed. At 2:30 pm, all the guests have left the scene, leaving nothing but a huge mess behind. That's when a server hands me the bill. "It'll be 510 thousand dollars, miss." I'm left gobsmacked. "I'm a wedding guest, not the organizer." The groom is Charlie Humboldt, my ex-boyfriend. At the moment, he takes his pregnant bride, Sasha Fitch, by the hand while sneering at me. "Since you're here, you might as well foot the bill. Think of it as your way of compensating for my youth." Charlie's mother, Melissa Carlton, moves to block the door. "If you're not paying the bill, then you can forget about leaving. No one wants you anyway, so you might as well stay here and pay off your debt by working as a dishwasher!" As I stare at the shameless family, I dig out my phone quietly. What they don't know is that this five-star hotel is a gift from my dad to me.

After my dad's first love moved into our house and became my tutor, my mom never raised her voice at her again. She just coughed worse and worse, until one day I found the lab report she'd thrown out. Stage IV lung cancer. That afternoon, Dad came home with his arm around her, and walked right into Mom sitting on the couch. There was a flicker of guilt on his face. "Helena, if you've got something to say, just say it. Don't make a scene in front of the kid." Mom was eerily calm. She pointed at the woman and said, "She gets on her knees and apologizes to me three times. And you sign over half the company. Then we're done." Dad thought she'd lost it. But in the end he signed the share transfer. After that, Mom's pills kept multiplying and her appetite kept shrinking. But she hired the best lawyer in town, and over and over she taught me how to manage those shares once I was old enough. Dad never figured out the one thing that mattered. Mom was already on her way out.