Korean Month

Kidnapped by the billionaire Synopsis Mercy's write Extract from the story I starred at the kidnapper billionaire in front of me. "Can you explain to me why am in your office right now"I yelled at him. "Look valarie,this is a business organization so just keep it low woman"he said and scoff. *yea arrogant billionaire* "Valarie,I don't know how to say this but I really do know I need your help"he said nervously. "An what help can a poor lady render to a billionaire"I said and he started at me before answering "Be my girlfriend,valarie"he said and I felt my head spinning. "Did you hit your head in something or what,firstly I woke up only to be in your house,you kidnapped me Xavier and now you are asking me to be your girlfriend you"I said and ruffled my hair. "I don't really say please to any lady,but you are just proving hard to get,I really need this,my parent wants me to get a girlfriend and I promise it just a two month thing"he pleaded with sincerity written on his green eye. . . . Meet valarie Valarie a 22 year old lady,dealing with her not so good life who suddenly meets a billionaire who ordered coffee in a late hour and she refuse, What happens when she wake up only to find herself in the youngest billionaire's mansion? Carry on. Grab ur popcorn Strictly written by mercy Mercy's write

When my mother falls gravely ill, my husband, who has asthenospermia, promises to help me think of something. So, I give him all my savings. Despite being pregnant, I get a part-time job doing DoorDash deliveries. However, I see my husband when I pass by a realtor's office. He's supposed to be hard at work like me, but he's buying a place for his childhood friend. He even has his arm around her. "That old hag thinks I only earn that little each month. Don't worry, Yvette. I only give her 10% of what I earn. The rest goes to you!" I hold back my tears and grab the hem of his shirt, wanting to borrow some money for my mother's treatment. However, he shoves me away irritably. "I give you 2000 dollars a month! Isn't that enough? Have you spent it all on useless things?" He leaves without another look back, ignoring my cries and pleas. He also kicks me, effectively murdering the child he's always dreamed of having. Later, he grovels at my feet and begs for forgiveness. It's too bad I've already given up on him. I don't want him anymore.

Elijah Morris has been fooling around for four out of the five years we've been married. And from the very first month, he openly betrays me. Meanwhile, I spend my time warding people off with expensive contracts, one after another. Eventually, all that's left between us is constant fighting. One day, his younger stepsister, Abigail Wright, returns. And just like that, he finally settles down. That's when the system tells me that I can finally go home. For the next five days, I no longer ask about his schedule. I don't care if he is with Abigail, nor do I care if she is pregnant with his child. I even move out of the master bedroom myself, listening to them going at it all night. The fifth day after Abigail's return is our wedding anniversary. Elijah bursts into the room, tears up our marriage certificate in front of me, and smashes my most treasured vase into pieces. He grips my throat tightly and growls, "Why did you put mango in Abby's cake? She's allergic, and she almost died! How could you be so cruel?" For the first time, I don't argue with him. Instead, I go along with his accusations. "So what?" I then pick up a shard from the broken vase on the floor under his disbelieving gaze. Then, I draw it across my artery. Just like that, I end my life in this world.

Warning, this book contains some mature content which is rated 18+ ******** Eugene Ari Darian, a name meaning well-born, superior and Gift is a Greek god who knows nothing about his father. He's filled with emptiness and even after eons, he still feels the same. The only source of comfort he has is his mother who visits once or twice a month from Mount Olympus.

On the day our son, Lucas Smith, turned one month old, my husband, Xavier Smith, learned that his precious childhood sweetheart, Wendy Xander, had been kidnapped. The kidnappers made an outrageous demand. They wanted him to personally cut off our son’s legs. He acted indifferent, as if it didn’t matter. But behind my back, he drugged my drink with a heavy dose of sleeping pills. Dazed and barely able to stay awake, I forced myself toward the nursery. That was when I overheard his conversation with his bodyguard. “Mr. Smith, there’s a good chance Miss Xander staged this whole kidnapping. Are you really going to do this? What if something happens to Lucas?” “It’s just a kid. If he dies, he dies. “Even if this is all fake, I won’t take a single risk when it comes to Wendy.” My hands trembled as I gripped the doorframe. So this was what I meant to him. Eight years together. His own flesh and blood. And none of it mattered more than Wendy.

Our wedding anniversary also happens to be our son's birthday. A month in advance, I carefully plan a family trip for the three of us—me, my husband, and our son. But right before we're supposed to leave, both of them suddenly disappear on me. I'm left standing alone in the pouring rain, dialing their numbers. On the other end, my son's young voice comes through, sounding cold and impatient. "Dad's having dinner with Ms. Moore. We don't want to go anymore." The call ends, and I'm blocked. Later that night, they intentionally lock me out of the house. I'm left standing in the freezing cold all night long. Soaked from the rain, I come down with a high fever and develop pneumonia. Meanwhile, my husband and son are off vacationing with Sophia Moore, smiling for a happy family photo with just the three of them. And in that moment, I know this marriage has truly come to an end.

I've been in a secret relationship with Declan Gibson for five years, and I've tried to seduce him more times than I can count. Yet, when I stand in front of him in my birthday suit and a pair of bunny ears, all he does is worry that I'll catch a cold and wrap me in a blanket. I used to think his restraint came from being the mafia don, that he was saving our first time for our wedding night. However, one month before the ceremony, he secretly plans the city's grandest fireworks show to celebrate his childhood sweetheart's birthday. They hug and share a slice of cake in public. That night, they check into a hotel. … The next morning, I watch them leave together. That's when I realize Declan is not restrained. He just doesn't love me, so I walk out of the hotel. I call my parents. "Dad, I've broken up with Declan. I'll marry into the Sullivan family as planned." My father is stunned. "I thought you were madly in love with Declan. Why did you break up? I heard Bryson can't have children. You've always loved kids. What will you do once you marry him?" "It's fine," I reply, disheartened. "We can always adopt."

Something strange is happening at the Dumitrese mansion. Every month a few slaves are taken away and never return. Amos, a slave who has been in the slave area of the Dumitrese mansion since childhood, tries to find out what's going on. But, unfortunately that day he was caught. His brother was shot to death. Amos was saved by Seraphine, the youngest daughter of Tudor Dumitrese. But, after knowing who Sera really was, Amos wished he had died with his brother. Sera played with Amos like a toy. She never let him be free. Until Amos had earned the hatred of Sera's fiance. Amos realized that the Dumitrese family was not human. *** Note : English is not my first language. But I tried my best to translate it. I hope you enjoy reading it. Feel free to leave comments. Thank you ❤️

“Camille, I’ll love you forever!” Jameson let out a low, agonized growl. Just as he was about to climax, his phone suddenly began to buzz. He ignored it, of course. Now was hardly the time. However, his phone lit up again. The moment he saw the text on the screen, his body froze. Camille heard him answer the call. “Hello?” In the deep silence of the night, the voice on the phone cut through the stillness, clear and unmistakable. “Jameson, did you know that Sylvia—” Jameson switched languages and cut in with a sharp command, “Keep it down. It's not a good time.” The other person switched languages too, though he was still loud. “The hospital results came in. Sylvia is in the final stages of cancer. She only has a month left! Her last wish is to become your wife. Can you grant her that before she passes?” Jameson’s expression changed immediately. “What?! Wait for me!” He ended the call and turned to Camille. “Camille, something urgent came up. I need to step out for a bit. Be good and stay home. I’ll be back after you’ve had some sleep.” Before she could respond, he rose to wash up, changed his clothes, and left without looking back. Moments later, her phone buzzed. Sylvia: [Camille, you lost. I told you—Jameson has always been mine.] Right above it was a message from three days ago: [If I tell him I have cancer, do you think Jameson will leave you and come to me? I bet he will.] Camille’s gaze slowly shifted from her phone screen to the open bedroom door. What Jameson did not know was that she had already picked up a new language. She understood every word of that call. After a long moment, a faint, bitter smile appeared on her face. “Yeah, I lost...”

Nine years into my "non-cohabiting partnership" with Simon, his father passed away. The first condition in his will was simple: Simon and Ella had to conceive a child. On the day the child turned one month old, Simon would inherit his father's fortune. Simon told me this himself—the night I walked in on them tangled in our bed. Afterward, as he took a slow drag from his cigarette, he murmured, "Lily, just wait a little longer. Once I get the inheritance, I'll marry you." But he went back on his word. From then on, every time Simon planned to meet Ella at our house, he would hang a string of bells on the door. Since his father's passing, those bells had chimed ninety-nine times. After the ninety-ninth, the news arrived—Ella was pregnant, and their engagement party was set. My daughter saw the invitation, hesitated, then softly asked, "Mom, is Daddy's name on this?" I forced a smile and gently smoothed her messy hair into a neat ponytail. "Daddy is marrying the one he loves," I said. "And I'm taking you home." Simon never understood—I never cared about that marriage certificate.