It The Clown In The Sewer

Three years… That is how long Eunice Tsui spent in a coma after the car accident five years ago. Now that she is awake, the perpetrator must settle his debts. She's returning to the country that never gave her a warm home, and this time, she's taking matters into her own hands. She will track down every rat hiding in the sewer and eliminate them herself. No more being pushed around or feeling unwelcome—she's taking control of the situation. However, her well-thought-out revenge compromises when Jullian Lopez keeps appearing before her. What will be his role in the stage she built for the culprits to gather around? EXCERPT: “Mommy, I missed you!” A four-year-old boy rushes to her side and gives her a loud kiss on the cheek. “How’s my baby?” With an unusually delicate smile on her lips, Eunice asked softly. “Mommy, don’t embarrass me!” Eunice raised a brow and chuckled. “And why is that? You will always be my baby. Besides, we’re the only people here. Why would you feel embarrassed if I called you my baby?” Jillian pouted, folding his arms as he looked past his mom and pointed at the man who emerged from her bathroom only wrapped in a bath towel, barely covering anything. “Eunice Tsui! Why does that child look so much like me?” the man inquired. Eunice rolled her eyes and retorted, “Jullian Lopez, stop assuming. We never sleep together!” Astounded, Jillian shifted his gaze from the two adults to the bedroom, which looked like a super hurricane had passed because of how messed up the bed and every corner of the room were.

Benedict Cole’s undercover mission had failed. Only his twin brother, David Cole, returned. I was devastated, nearly driven to madness over losing my husband. Holding Benedict’s police badge, I tried to slit my wrists nine times, but I was always rescued just in time. As my consciousness faded on my tenth attempt, I overheard a conversation between my mother-in-law, Helen, and David. “El has tried to commit suicide for you ten times now. How long are you going to keep this act up? This woman is head over heels for you. Just stop lying to her already!” David’s expression hardened as he flatly refused. “David took a bullet for me. It is only right that I take care of his wife.” “El’s from the countryside. She’s tough. Once Melissa becomes pregnant and has a child to live for, only then can I reveal that I am actually Benedict.” The bathtub was dyed red with my blood, but the pain in my heart was far greater than the sting of my wound. It turned out that it had all been a lie, a deception meant only for me. My grief-stricken suicide attempts for love were nothing short of a clown’s tragicomedy.

“Even if the world shuns me, laughs at me, gives me strange looks, and labels me as a freak, I will not give up. I will never give up on what I believe in, even if it takes years, I will continue to persevere until I achieve my goal and get what I deserve!” These were the words Juan always told herself deep down in her heart whenever she looked at the mirror. These were the words that made her keep on going whenever they laughed at her, mocked her for being ugly. To her, as long as she has faith even as small as a mustard seed, she believes that one day, her time will come and her life will change for the better. All she needed was a chance, an opportunity and that is all it took for her life to be changed eternally forever. Destiny came knocking at her door and no matter how many times she tried throwing this chance away, it followed her home and from that day going forward, Juan, the ugly and clown everyone was used to became a beauty that many couldn’t touch. Even if the journey wasn’t simple and rocky, she wasn’t willing to give it up and live a life of suffering as she did. Will there be happiness waiting for her at the end of the road? Will she be willing to sacrifice it all to achieve her dreams and goals?

As my murderer's claws tear into my abdomen inch by inch, my father and brother are seated in our family's banquet hall. They're celebrating Carly's 18th birthday and coming-of-age. "You'll always be my little girl." "Happy birthday, Carly." They light 18 pink candles for her. On top of the exquisite red velvet cake is a wolf figurine that they carved for her, and there are well wishes and laughter all around. Meanwhile, I'm curled up in a sewer filled with liquid silver as I bleed to death. My phone has been crushed, and I can't get out. I can only cry for help. A few days later, my father and brother show up together at the autopsy room. My brother stands by the operating table with a scalpel. He slices open the body and sews it back up like it's nothing. My father just covers his nose as he shoots a disgusted glance at my body. He urges my brother to hurry up with the autopsy report. "The victim is a young female wolf presumed to be of pure lineage. Before her death, she was subjected to prolonged captivity and torture. Her throat is nearly severed, her cervical spine is dislocated, and her chest cavity has collapsed. She was also injected with liquid silver before death." Hearing the report, my father looks so calm that it's just like a case study of no consequence. Neither of them can recognize that the body belongs to me—their daughter and sister!

I was always flying for work, so I left the whole renovation thing to my husband, Daxton Pruitt. This time, my flight got scrapped last minute, so I swung by the house to check in. The second I stepped inside, some woman named Mona Scambley, who claimed she was the designer, chucked a stack of invoices at me. Couples' lingerie display case: $15,000. High-end waterbed: $40,000. One glance at that pile of overpriced tacky nonsense made me nauseous. My brows pulled tight. "Ms. Scambley, this is a private house, not some couples' motel. What is all this?" Her face flipped in a heartbeat. She jabbed a finger at me. "The owner gave those orders. You're just the site supervisor. Disobey me again, and I'll have Mr. Pruitt fire you!" Then she spun around and called Daxton right there. I laughed, cold and low, about to ask what kind of clown show designer he'd hired—until I heard his voice. Gentle. Doting. "This is Mona and my love nest. We'll do whatever we want. Don't like it? Get out." I smiled, snatched the list from Mona, and nodded. "Sure." One week later, that overpriced waterbed showed up—Daxton, very much not smiling.

Rosa Thompson the daughter of Mr. Thompson from an average family. She was maltreated by her step mom and sister. Her dad doesn't really care about her after her mom's death. She ended up on the street. Her family thought she will remain a nobody for life. Rosa dreams came through after meeting the CEO of Hilly's company. After meeting with the CEO of Hilly's company, they were friends and they later fell in love. The CEO wants to marry her but she has a lot of skeletons in her cupboard. Will Donald still love her after finding out the truth?

A dark and gloomy villa stood in the middle of the barren landscape, hidden from sight by a perched hedge. It was phenomenal and spectacular, but it makes it appear to have succumbed to a sullen and ominous atmosphere, both inside and out. A lanky hedge and gnarled shrubs give off the impression that the house has indeed been overlooked. The rainstorm seeping from the sewer pipes made the place appear miserable and dispirited. Needless to say, the house appeared razed to the ground and devoid of life. The house was made of rune stone that had been smeared darker in spots by downpours, sending it an insidious demeanor even during the day. The window frames were all padlocked and bricked up in steel frames and woods, as if what was inside would have been too grotesque to see, trying to give the impression that someone must have attempted to prevent something horrible from escaping. People have claimed that the residence was plagued by the witch who died there, but there has been no tangible evidence to substantiate their claims. It was even widely speculated that the villa was venomous and mowed down the leaves of trees that come into direct contact with its concrete pillars. People also construed a terrifying presumption that whoever tries to enter the house will never make it out alive because there is something inside that you would never dare to see with your very own eyes. Whatever was real or not, it was unmistakably foreshadowing, exponentially cold and savage at a hundredth of a thousand glances. A breathtaking doll sat competently on a rocking chair inside the house. Waiting complacently for someone brave and heroic enough to unravel the abominable and ghoulish mystery and paradox behind her enchanting, spine-chilling smile.

"I reject you, Lyra." These four words shattered Lyra's mate bond leaving her humiliated and weakened as she faced the cruel torture of being banished and left to die. Can Young Lyra overcome the deadly threat of rogues, or will the forest become her grave?

Vanna Shaw is a woman who built the Secret Territorial Group in Spain, she owns all of the contraband units that handle carriers, securities, and public dispatchers of their assets. She is one of the five women who run the group, thus, she knows that eventually, her position is about to end. When he went home to his family, he knew he was about to marry, yep! A big clown to her plan. First, she doesn’t like Magnus Daviro to be her husband. He is like her, an arrogant, cold, and dominant man she knows she can’t handle. It is also a company’s heir, and their marriage will be a strong relationship between the Shaw and Daviro family for their business. She believes that she is a lousy, useless, not attractive man, but she mistakenly because all she can see is a grown-up man who can take her breath away. Can they have a spark together? or will they end up battling who is the boss? What if despite their situation, he will know its secret? Can he love the other personality?

I quit and dipped. City threw a parade. Only Jenna Blake—my oh-so-gifted junior who claimed she could "see through killers' eyes"—lost it. At her celebration banquet, she went full drama queen: "I owe everything to Kate Mercer. Please, bring her back!" I laughed. Cold. Not happening. Last time around, I was the hotshot detective. But every clue I found? She dropped it first like she read my mind. People started saying I was washed. So I went all in—three months, no sleep, cracked a massive trafficking ring. Led the raid myself. She beat me there. Again. Place was cleaned out. Boom. She's the city's golden girl. I'm the clown with no game. Pressure got ugly. My head snapped. I died chasing the last scumbag. Then—bam. I woke up. Same day. Raid morning. Round two.