Knife Drop Mga Nobela at Kwento

Rain Stanton thought she was mentally prepared, but she couldn’t stop her trembling hands. She took the envelope and opened it. Sitting quietly in the envelope was a Divorce Agreement. Rain felt as if her heart was cut by a blunt knife and asked, “What have I done wrong, Payton? Please give our marriage a chance.” Her husband, Payton Phillips, looked at her coldly and replied, “I have never loved you, Rain. The gentleness and tenderness I gave you were not meant for you. When I was in bed with you, I had Zara in my mind. You are nothing but a substitute. I give you five days to sign the divorce agreement.” Rain was not aware that Payton had a first love, if life had a rewind button….

As they stood atop a cliff, the kidnapper held a knife to her throat, and the throat of his dream girl. “You can choose only one.”“I choose her,” the man said, pointing to his dream girl.Stella’s voice trembled as she said, “Weston… I’m pregnant.”Weston looked at her indifferently. “Gwen has a fear of heights.”Many years passed after that.Rumor had it that Ahn City’s prestigious Mr. Weston Ford was always lingering outside the house of his ex-wife, even breaking boundaries to pamper her, even if she would never bat an eyelid at him.Rumor had it that the night Stella brought a man home with her, Weston almost died at her door. Everyone was envious of Stella, but she smiled politely and said, “Don’t die at my door. I fear germs.”

My sister pulled a knife during a robbery attempt, and we got into a brutal fight. My mom, an auxiliary police officer, arrived at the scene but totally ignored my injury. As I lay in a pool of blood, begging for help, she just cradled my sister and yelled at me, "You're so desperate for attention that you'd hurt your sister? How did I raise a heartless monster like you?" She branded me as the aggressor, ignored my pleas, and rushed my sister, who had mere scratches, to the hospital. I was left alone to die miserably in that deserted alley. When the news of my death arrived, my mother dismissed it as another one of my lies, pointing at my body and demanding I get up to apologize to my sister.

Everyone knew I was hopelessly in love with Hendrick Sam, willing to sacrifice my dignity for him. In the two years we were together, he would drop everything and leave me in the hospital whenever his “one true love” called. People mocked me, saying, “Chloe, you must really enjoy being a doormat.” I just smiled and stayed silent. Later, when he was on his deathbed, he asked, “Chloe, did you ever really love me?” I turned my back on him. Because it was never him I loved, it was his heart.

"Instead of asking me to be your toy, I would prefer if you rejected me as your mate." I tried not to cry because I knew it was useless in this situation. For people who have power like him, they never have a conscience. "You think I like having a useless mate like you?" he growled. "Of all the werewolves, how could the moon goddess choose you as my mate? How unlucky I am," he cursed. "Then just reject me so you can be free!" I challenged him to do so. Even though I knew it would be so painful that it would feel like welcoming my death. But it was better than living miserably with an Alpha who didn't love me at all. I'd rather be tormented by the pain like a knife to my heart than be terrified all my life with a knife in front of my face that I don't know when it's going to cut me. He grinned, sending chills down my spine. For some reason, I always felt a sense of danger whenever I was around him. It made me feel uncomfortable. "The more you want it, the more I'll never do it." He pulled my waist roughly and whispered above my lips. With a condescending smile that made my pride feel like it was being trampled on. "Being my toy is better than being a whore out there, Ruth." I pushed him roughly and yelled at him. "I will never be your toy!" Ruth was mated to seven alpha brothers, who were her bully and soon to be her stepbrothers. They made sure that her life would be hell, because her mother took their mother place now she will pay for her mother sin. READ STANDALONE CINDERELLA SECOND PART, TRIPLET ALPHAS' CINDERELLA DOCTOR

Dating a soon-to-be-a NFL player and an Alpha billionaire that every girl on campus would drop their panties for sounds like a dream come true, right? But I can assure you it's not! Alpha Weston told me he would never date a girl who wasn't fit the first time we met. He also said I must be a virgin since no man would want to stick it in me. Yet, despite this, we end up fake-dating each other. The reason? We both have something to gain from it...now we just have to survive this game of hearts we are playing.

In a world where desire can be bottled and sold, Anji discovers the ultimate forbidden tool: the Essence. One drop was all it took to rewrite his identity, turning his ambition into a dangerous game of artificial attraction. As he climbs the corporate ladder using a power he doesn't fully understand, he catches the eye of his cold, untouchable boss. But in a life fueled by a synthetic drug, how can he ever know if his feelings—or the ones he inspires—are real? When the Architect of Desire comes to collect his due, Anji must decide if he is willing to trade his soul for a perfect, fabricated love.

"You are taking a big risk, sweetheart." He warned, eyes dark and menacing. I looked at the already torn documents on the floor and it sent chills down my spine. *** Having a one-night-stand with someone older than me seems deadly, especially when the said person is my billionaire step-uncle. Even though I was the model everyone yearned for, my virginity was something I wasn't ready to give to any man. But on that fateful night, I lost it to him and I would have never imagined that it could turn into something this big. Despite knowing this, the thirst for a drop from his hot river of sexiness can't be quenched.

Imagine loving someone in secret for a decade, watching them chase the one person who could never truly accept them, believing their wedding would finally free them and you, only to see him drop to his knees in front of everyone, begging her to stay and calling you, his best friend and secret mate, “just friend”. The pain rips through you, you drown it in alcohol, follow a scent that feels like home, and wake up beside a man who looks exactly like him and wants nothing more than to ruin you, strip every ounce of innocence from your bones, and worship the grounds of your sanctuary day and night.

When my husband, Kevin, and I were at our favorite exclusive restaurant, he ordered a T-bone steak and told the waiter with practiced ease, "The usual, and no arugula in the side salad." I paused, then gently nudged his elbow. "Honey, did you forget? Arugula is my favorite." Kevin's body tensed, and he quickly corrected himself. I even teased him, asking if he was so tired lately that his memory was starting to go. A week later, I came back to the restaurant alone to unwind, only to overhear the young woman at the next table waving to the waiter with a smile. "The T-bone again, and no arugula in the salad. Just put it on my husband's tab." "The account number is 8993." My knife and fork clattered against the bone china plate. That string of numbers was my husband's private phone number.