Kobo Gallery

“Tolong beri pelajaran pada istri saya!” Danu mendekat pada Harry, lalu membisikkan sesuatu. “Hah?! Apa kamu gila?" Harry berteriak tertahan. “Tidur dengan istrimu?” “Dia hanya istri di atas kertas. Saya tidak selera sama dia,” jawab Danu dengan sinis. “Jadi maksudmu, dia jelek? Kamu suruh saya tidur dengan perempuan jelek? Wah … ini penghinaan namanya.” Harry jadi emosi mendengar ucapan Danu. “Kamu jangan nolak dulu.” Danu meraih ponselnya, lalu membuka gallery foto. Kemudian, ia memperlihatkan sebuah foto pada Harry. “Apa kamu tidak punya mata? Istri secantik ini malah mau dikasih ke laki-lain lain? Wah … jangan-jangan kamu yang sinting, bukan dia,” ejek Harry. Ia pun memilih untuk beranjak dari depan Danu. “Ah, sudahlah, aku sibuk.” “10 juta untuk satu jam.” Ucapan Danu menghentikan langkah Harry. “Cukup sekali saja, setelah itu, saya pun tidak akan datang ke sini lagi.” Suara Danu kembali mengusik Harry. “Saya akan atur waktunya besok malam.”

🔥🔥WARNING!!! THIS BOOK CONTAINS EXTREMELY EROTIC CONTENTS, SEX SCENES AND RAW WORDS THAT SOME MIGHT FIND TRIGGERING🔥🔥 Hayley knew he was married, knew he was a father, but above all, she knew that this was so wrong on every level. But some desires they say were forbidden, and this one felt too good and yet so wrong at the same time. "You… you are married, Alex." She whispered with a voice she could barely recognize as her own. "I know, I live every day of my life with that painful reminder." Hayley gulped, "Then this is wrong." She managed again as his breath tickled a spot on her neck lightly. "There are no paparazzi here, you made sure of that. Nobody is gonna know." She wanted to tell him that they were in his gallery and anyone could walk in, but the moment she opened her mouth to speak, the door burst open and Ursula walked in. Hayley knew her life was over then. ******* When a young married business man's life collided with that of a simple, Art loving girl's own in the most chaotic way on a Monday morning with a child's life at stake, none of them imagined that they would go from random strangers to mentor and boss and then into a scandalous and yet forbidden relationship where reputations must be protected and hopes must not be shattered. But when forbidden desires are concerned, dark obsessions can set in and well, all consequences might as well be damned!

I set fire to my painting in front of the entire academy. Thunderous applause erupts from the crowd as everyone thinks it's some kind of performance art. Unlike them, Willow Laurent is distraught. She rushes up and grabs my hand, questioning in a shrill voice, "Cassidy Seymour, have you gone mad? This is your only chance to prove yourself!" I shake her hand off me coldly. My only chance? No… What she means is that it's her chance. In my past life, I created this masterpiece with all my heart and soul. But she stole it from me and submitted it as her entry first. Whether it was the composition, the colors, or even my original dot-stippling technique… She replicated every detail flawlessly. Then, she won the National Young Artists Gold Award, signed with a top gallery, and became a rising star. And what about me? I was condemned as a shameless plagiarist. Insults and curses gradually drowned me. "You shouldn't be an artist!" "Plagiarists are scum! They should just die!" Her fans stormed into my studio, smashed my art supplies, and broke my right hand. As I saw no end to the hell that I was living in, I jumped down from the top floor of my studio. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the very day she first accuses me of plagiarism.

Three men. One heart. Maya’s bl‌ueprint for lo⁠v‌e. May​a Al​v⁠are‍z thought‍ she was on the safest and fulfilled path, a loyal boyfriend, a promis‌ing career, an​d a life free of drama. Till a s‍tormy‌ night and a s⁠tole‍n kiss und‌er the gallery lights shat‍tered everything. Humiliated‌ but unbro⁠ken, Maya threw herself into wor​k mindlessly, only to clash wi⁠th Zane Cro‌ss: a ruthless b‍illionaire client, whose smirk is as dangerous as his secr‍ets. Th⁠ei​r s‍parks igni‌te b‍o⁠ardrooms and headl⁠ines, and soo‍n the city is whisperin⁠g abo‌ut the fire between th‌em. When a scanda‍l threatens t⁠o wr‍e‌ck her care​er and all she’d worked for, M‍ay⁠a makes​ a desperate move.She begins to notice Lucas, the⁠ charming​ Doctor, willing to fake-date her, to cal​m the rumor and get her mat⁠c​h‍making f‌amily’s pressure off her. B​ut fak⁠e dates soon b‍ecom‍e real gl​ances, and r‌eal glances stir old fee⁠lings Maya wasn't prepared for. As corpo​rate sabot‍age, family meddling, and city gossip swirl, Maya begins⁠ to wonder if love is w​orth the risk at all and questions where​ h​e‍r salvatio‌n truly lies, to be fully ready to recieve the love she wants and deserves.

After her father's heart attack, Munachi Alice Rowland needs to stop being the spoiled rich kid in order to assume the position of the director in his gallery. What she isn't prepared for is finding out how bad the state of the gallery's finances are. Now Muna must find a potential investor to get the company back on its feet and pay off their debts. Grant Stevens, Muna's former school mate who made high school hell for her has returned to the city, richer, more powerful than ever and also hot as sin. When Muna finds out that Grant is the CEO of the company her father owes millions of dollars to, she is beyond shocked. Things get worse when she discovers the agreement her father signed with Grant's company. Muna has no choice, other than agreeing to Grant's every wish, which might just entail marriage with him. Muna is very sure it is yet another strategy to torment her, just like he always did nine years earlier. She is supposed to hate Grant, but how can she explain the constant attraction she feels instead whenever he's close? With his flirtatious smile and advances, can she be able to guard her heart and get married to her enemy for two years without catching feelings? As they say, there's a thin line between love and hatred, could Muna's nemesis have some stronger feelings for her after all?

Sarah Reynolds, a gifted artist, opens her new gallery exhibition amid the sun-drenched streets of Spain, where passion burns like a summer storm. Her breathtaking beauty attracts attention from all directions, but she is fully captured by the mysterious Damian Thorne, who is twice her age and has a captivating presence and heavenly charm. What starts out as a single drink turns into a memorable one-night affair that leaves both parties speechless and wanting more. Sarah is unaware that Eleanor, her mother, is covertly seeing Damian. After the hectic affair, Sarah returns to the Philippines and attempts to get rid of the heat from that evening. Two weeks later, her lively mother, Eleanor, talks nonstop about her new lover's imposing charm and alluring allure, creating an impression that is unintentionally false. Three weeks after their meeting, Eleanor proudly introduces Damian as her lover, and the truth falls apart. Sarah is shocked, but they both pretend to be calm, hiding the electric tension with courteous grins, even though Damian's ravenous glance shows how desperate he is to get her back. Sarah struggles between loyalty and desire since she doesn't want to break her mother's heart. However, destiny weaves its complex web: Eleanor and Damian become family when they get married in an expensive ceremony a month later. The forbidden flame rekindles behind the façade of domestic contentment. Sarah and Damian give in to moments of intense love that have been taken—secret affairs in dark places where guilt feeds the flames and every touch puts everything at risk. Sarah must manage the seductive attraction of the older man who now shares her mother's bed in this web of secrets, love, lust, and lies while protecting an affair that might destroy their entire world.

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.

The doctor told me I had 72 hours left, unless I got access to the newest experimental treatment. However, there was only one slot available, and my husband Bowen Liddell gave it to my sister Yvonne Lawson instead. "Her kidney failure is more critical," he said. I nodded and swallowed the white pills that would only speed up my death. In the time I had left, I got a lot done. The lawyer's hand trembled as he passed me the documents. "Are you sure you want to transfer the two billion dollars in shares?" I replied, "Yes. Give them to Yvonne." My daughter, Candice Liddell, was giggling in Yvonne's arms. "Mommy Yvonne bought me a new dress!" I said, "It looks beautiful. Make sure you always listen to Mommy Yvonne, okay?" The art gallery I built from the ground up now had Yvonne's name on the sign. "You're too kind, Kathy," she said, crying. I told her, "You'll run it even better than I ever did." I even signed all my parents' trust fund away. That was when Bowen finally gave me his first genuine smile in years. "Kathleen, you've changed. You're not so aggressive anymore... You're beautiful like this." Indeed. This dying version of me finally became the 'perfect Kathleen Sullivan' in their eyes—obedient, generous, and no longer argumentative. The 72-hour countdown had already begun, and I couldn't help but wonder what they would remember when my heart stopped for good. The good wife who 'finally learned to let go', or the woman who completed her revenge by dying?

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.