John Proctor Descendants Today Novels & Stories

In the Crimson city in Moon City dominantly inhabited by members of the Crimson pack, there were reported records of the daily increase of missing humans and the livestock. Traces or trails weren't left by the perpetrators of these acts, and the remains of these humans could not be found as well. The Alpha of the Crimson pack was on the edge of pointing fingers at the Greyhound pack, another pack that inhabited Diamond city as the ones behind this activity. But he got a message from Governor Klaus Mickelson, urging them to refrain from the massacre and killings if they had a hand in it. Since this was the situation, Crimson eye pack had to return a message to the Greyhound pack, requesting for a monthly meeting hosted in Moon City with several smaller packs as well. This meeting session was going to help the packs to have unified reasoning and coordinated ideas in order to devise a means to find the source of these sudden killings in the city. Meanwhile, Damon Mickelson, the son of Klaus Mickelson, Alpha of the Greyhound pack, refused to attend the meeting. He stated the availability of some unresolved conflict with the Crimson eye pack as his reason. But his parents and the elders reminded him of the importance of attending the meeting. They made him understand that he needed to attend the meeting because it was a duty that he owed the pack as the future Alpha. Tessa Randolph, the second daughter of John Randolph, tried to convince her father to allow the meeting to be hosted by another pack. She wanted to stay back and allow her elder brother to attend the meeting in her place, but her reasons were all worthless to the ears of her father.

They called her a burden. His fiancè called her a nuisance. Cecelia Morrow was a pawn of her family, sacrificed for their wealth and power. When she caught her fiancé in bed with her sister, the day before their wedding, her desperate plea to escape was met with disapproval. Forced to choose between a loveless marriage and a life of hate and misery, she made a desperate call to her childhood friend, the one person she knew could help her disappear. He was the king of the underworld, a man who hated women. But tonight, everything changed. Lucien Belucci, the infamous Mafia King, had never met a woman who could tempt him, but on his way to a wedding arranged by his brother, he encountered a runaway bride and for some reason, his man that he could never get up was now hard in anger. So when she demanded for his help, he took the chance. "What do you think about getting married today?" A dangerous alliance. A desperate escape. Their worlds collide in a storm of betrayal and passion. Two souls, bound by circumstance and driven by a need for lust and freedom, find themselves in a deadly game where love and revenge become intertwined. Will their escape lead to a new life, or will they be consumed by the darkness they've unleashed?

"I'm willing to marry you." Jared Brooks and his brother, Shiloh, turned their heads. Standing before them was a woman in a wedding dress, but this was no ordinary bride. Her gown was stained with dirt and blood, her mascara streaked down her cheeks, and her makeup a ruined mess. Today was supposed to be Julia Watson's wedding day. She was set to marry her fiancé, Carter Ross, until her so-called best friend, Vivien Smith, announced to everyone that she and Carter were expecting a baby—and were in love. Shattered by the betrayal of her fiancé and best friend, Julia was ready to give up. That was until she spotted Jared Brooks, the CEO of Brooks Corporation, at the courthouse. "Who are you?" Jared asked, puzzled by the stranger's proposal. Jared had no intention of marrying a stranger, and even his brother found the idea absurd. He was about to leave when Julia made an irresistible promise: she could cure his brother's legs. "I'm Julia Watson of the Watson family," she introduced herself. Jared assumed Julia sought revenge against her ex-fiancé by marrying him. Little did he know, Julia harbored two dark secrets. First, she had a mission to complete. Second, she wasn't really Julia Watson.

At the end of the year, I went to the spa and discovered a stranger had been using my VIP card. When I logged into my personal profile, the last three treatment records were not under my name. The preference section listed specific details about someone else. She was allergic to rose essential oil, preferred lavender, and her heating pad temperature could not exceed 108 degrees Fahrenheit. Her menstrual cycle fell around the 15th of each month, so no waist or abdomen treatments during that time. I stared at the screen, my palms turning cold. Only my husband, Zachary White, knew this password. At the time, he said he needed it to check the balance and renew my membership. I scrolled down and found a system note at the bottom: [Birthday treatment reserved for December 30, prepared according to Ms. Anderson's preferences.] Today was December 30. My phone vibrated. Zachary had sent a message: [Working late tonight. Won't be home.] Familiar laughter drifted from the hallway. Through the glass door, I watched Zachary walk into the adjacent room with his arm around a woman, the beautician hurrying forward to greet them. "Mr. White, we have Ms. Anderson's birthday treatment ready, just as you requested."

After returning home from abroad, I took a job as a driver to broaden my horizons. However, I got hired to drive a car with my dad’s car plate, and the location I was sent to was the city’s largest nightclub. I was suspicious about the location where I would pick up the car and the client. When I arrived, I found a bunch of people buttering up the poor student my family used to sponsor. “Have you had fun today, Mr. Morgan?” they asked. “If you’re unhappy with the ladies tonight, we’ll make sure there are better ones tomorrow night!” It was only when he called me that I realized he was my client. I went and questioned him about why he was driving my dad’s car, but he kicked me to the ground. “How dare a mere driver try to scam me? Get down on your knees and kiss my feet!” Then, he ordered his bodyguards to hold me down. They made me do as he asked. He went so far as to press cigarettes into my face, burning me. I withstood the pain and sent a photo of my dad’s car to my family’s group chat. [Dad, why are you going to Dreamscape behind Mom’s back and hiring girls for a night out?]

On the day of our engagement, as we were driving to the banquet hall, a man holding a few-month-old baby stepped in front of our car. My first thought was that it was some kind of scam. I was about to get out and deal with him when I saw the panic on his face. "Cassidy," he said desperately, "our baby won't stop crying. Do you think something's wrong?" The moment she heard that, my fiancée shoved me out of the car. She took off with them without a single glance back. I just stood there in shock. So this was the truth. She'd been hiding a child with her ex all along. Alone, I went to the banquet hall to handle what remained of our celebration. Later, she called. "I feel terrible about this," she said. "I thought if I gave him the baby and gave you the marriage, it would balance things out. But when Stanley showed up today, I realized—he's the only one I want." I was done with her games. If that's how she felt, I'd walk away. So I made a simple phone call. "Grandma, I'm coming home. I'm ready to run the family business now."

Soon after I came back to the country, someone slapped me right across the face in broad daylight, yelling that I was a mistress. A crowd of reporters closed in, pelting me with questions about whether Chandler Armstrong, CEO of Armstrong Industries, was keeping me as his mistress. I was stunned speechless for a moment, but then I pulled out my wedding photo with Chandler from seven years ago and held it up. "What are you talking about? I'm his wife!" The crowd went silent, and the woman who'd slapped me turned white as a sheet. Only then did I finally get it: while I'd been overseas, Chandler had been openly involved with an actress, and everyone in his social circle had already decided she was the future Mrs. Armstrong. Today, they all came expecting to confront a mistress—only to find out that I was actually his wife. Later, Chandler tried to justify it. "Alina, you've been out of the country for years. I'm a man, and I have needs. She's just a B-list actress; it's not like she threatens your position. Why should you be upset? Just let it go," he said. "Don't make a scene." I handed him the divorce papers. "You make me sick."

On our seventh wedding anniversary, Harrison Drummond arrives with the woman he's been seeing behind my back. Tears fill Kate McCauley's eyes. Before I even have a chance to speak, she drops to her knees in front of me. "Ms. Kershaw, love isn't about who came first or last. Harrison and I care for each other with all our hearts. Please, let us be together." I turn to look at Harrison. With a heavy heart, he lifts Kate into his arms. The man who's always obsessed with cleanliness now wipes her tears away, not caring about the mess she leaves behind. Without raising his gaze, he says, "Kate has been by my side without any official name or title. I owe her that much. Don't worry, she's not after anything else. Having her here is no more than adding an extra pair of cutlery at the table." With that, he carries Kate into the bedroom and closes the door behind them. He seems to have completely forgotten that today is our wedding anniversary. Does he even remember the other woman who followed him without status seven years ago? I stare at the glowing "Happy Anniversary" sign resting on the table. In that instant, I realize there is no future left for us.

Mindy Horton and I got married on Thanksgiving. Coincidentally, her assistant went abroad to further his studies that day. I did not pay much attention to it until the eve of another Thanksgiving three years later. I was browsing TikTok and came across Mindy, who was in a street interview about couples. The reporter stopped her and asked, "Excuse me. Could I have a second of your time? Who would you like to spend today with?" Mindy paused for a moment. She struggled to answer after a long while, "With my lover." "Call him now. He should know how you feel!" I smiled as I sat up, ready to pick up Mindy's call. However, when I looked up, I saw Mindy sobbing to another man on the screen. "I know you've returned, and I still can't forget you after all these years. Do you know how much I regret not marrying you and marrying another man? We missed our chance with each other three years ago. Let's spend Thanksgiving together this year!" I sat in bed all night and booked a flight out of the country the next morning. "When are you leaving?" my assistant asked. I replied, "On Thanksgiving."

After my best friend Lily Warren was assaulted, she took her own life. I was the only person who knew who had done it. And I was the one who helped cover for him. When Lily's mother knelt at my feet, begging me to tell the truth, I turned away with a cold face. When the people in town called me heartless and smashed my door, I let my dog, Buddy, attack them without hesitation. Ten years later, I was dying. My long-lost best friend, Claire Sutton, returned as the wealthiest woman in the country. The first thing she did was drag me onto the memory-trial platform normally reserved for death-row prisoners. "Rachel Vale, you disgusting animal. You protected a rapist. Lily and I were blind to ever call you our friend! "Lily has been dead for ten years, and you let her attacker walk free for ten years! "Today, I'm going to use the memory extractor I developed to see exactly who you've been protecting!" But when the real culprit appeared before everyone, Claire Sutton collapsed on the spot. She could barely stay on her knees.