Lab Gown

Detective Jack Malone stumbles into a nightmare when he raids an illegal biotech lab—only to find a silver-eyed woman, Subject 42, caged like an animal. Her name is Vesper, her memories fragmented by drugs, her calm demeanor unsettling. As Jack rescues her, he uncovers a web of corruption that reaches his own police force. A sudden tornado forces them into an underground shelter, where Vesper’s body betrays her: injected with experimental serum, she burns with unnatural heat, and Jack’s ethics shatter in the dark. But salvation twists into betrayal. Jack discovers Vesper is no victim—she’s the architect of the experiments, and he’s her chosen pawn. When she turns the tables, torturing him with his own guilt and the wreckage of his personal life, Jack must confront a harrowing truth: some monsters are made, not born. Their deadly dance culminates in a choice—vengeance or redemption—that will redefine justice, love, and the thin line between humanity and monstrosity. *Patient 42* is a dark, pulse-pounding thriller where desire and deception collide, and the most dangerous experiment is the human heart.

I was the greediest stand-in in high society, and my motto was simple. As long as cash kept coming, my dignity could take a back seat. For Frederick Jameson, I played the role of his obedient pet, so when his true love accused me of stealing her necklace, I just bowed and apologized. With Samuel York, I served as his lab rat, testing drugs meant for his sweetheart's condition until they left me with a bleeding ulcer. And for Theodore Xander, I acted as a scapegoat, getting pushed out to take the blame of extortion for his crush. They all assumed I was hopelessly in love with them, even forcing me to sign a confession at their joint engagement party. That was when the system's voice chimed in, "Host, the portal home is now open." I wiped the blood from my lips, splashed my wine into their faces, and grinned brightly. "Game over, losers!" Right in front of everyone, I leaped straight into the sea. Later, word spread that the three big shots scoured the entire ocean just to find my body.

Just two days before our engagement, my fiance, Theodore Scott, kneels to adjust the hem of my dress, his fingers suddenly brushing lightly against my ankle. "Isabella, I've never seen you wear heels. You have such beautiful feet." I adjust the waistline of my gown in the mirror and answer casually, "I'm not used to them. My legs hurt when I walk in heels." "Just try them. High heels would look perfect with your mermaid dress." His palm glides up along my leg, stopping at the back of my knee. He murmurs, "Red-bottom stilettos—each step would sway so gracefully, and the way they'd peek out when you walk… You'd look breathtaking in them." I look up and catch his focused, burning gaze in the mirror. "Since when do you know about these things?"

Brilliant, independent, and famous — ganyan ang tingin ng mga tao kay Dr. Madeline Aguas Pastino. Bukod pa sa magandang career na meron siya bilang top doctor sa buong siyudad, may mapagmahal din siyang asawa. But her life ended on an operating table, at the hands of her husband... the very man she had trusted and loved. Pagmulat ng kanyang mga mata, hindi ospital ang bumungad sa kanya kundi isang marangyang bridal suite. Nakasuot ng wedding gown, at bumungad ang napakagwapong lalaki. Ang ipinagtataka niya ay hindi siya nito nakikilala bilang Madeline Pastino. He called her... Nicoline Castro. Hiding her past, she must play along while planning revenge against those people who planned to kill her.

Born on the wrong side of the divide,18-year-old Raelynn Forester, a hybrid scorned by the council, faces a life carved by hardship. Orphaned by tragedy, hunted for her heritage, and used as a lab rat by the one who swore to protect her, she navigates a world where trust is a luxury she can't afford. Betrayal stings deeper than any claw. Her adoptive sister, blinded by jealousy, makes her life a misery. Seeking solace, She would turn to her Alpha Lorenzo. Her mate, a flicker of hope in the darkness, stumbles when the storm rages, leaving Raelynn to face the fury alone. But Raelynn is no fragile flower. With thorns sharper than any blade and a spirit forged in fire, she rises from the ashes. Her journey is a tapestry woven with blood and resilience, love and loss, as she fights for her survival, her identity, and the right to live in a world that fears what it doesn't understand. When it seems all is lost, will she find solace in the embrace of her mate, or succumb to the darkness that threatens to consume her? Dive into Raelynn's story, where every choice bleeds consequence and every love bite leaves a scar.

Today is my birthday. But my wife, Talia Ford, tells me that she can't spend time with me today. She needs to accompany her uncle, Adam Ford, to his physical checkup. I'm about to convince Talia to stay with me when a row of comments suddenly pops up in front of my eyes. "Stop wasting your breath. Just let her go. "In your previous life, Talia insisted on keeping her uncle company, so you could only return to your research lab to work. But you predicted that the dead volcano located next to Bareyard Village would erupt tonight. So, you forcibly stopped Talia and made her go back to the village to save her grandpa. "But when her uncle went for the physical checkup on his own, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Engulfed by despair, he took his own life by jumping off the hospital. "After he died, Talia pinned the blame on you. She bought some potent rat poison and poisoned your food, thus killing you."

“Come with me,“ he ordered.  “I'm not going anywhere!“ Freya stood her ground, looking up at his blank face.   Something flashed past his dark eyes as he heard her. “You really have some guts, don't you?“   “Well, I don't care what this is. I don't care why I'm in a wedding gown and why I'm being treated like I chose this. You could kill me if you want. But I'm not—”   “Is this about the kiss, my Lady?“ he asked, sounding amused.  Freya wanted the ground to open up and swallow her at that moment. Her face went scarlet red and she almost forgot the other reason why she was angry. “Why should I care about the fact that you didn't kiss me? I barely know you and—”   “Right.“ That was all he said before he gently grabbed her waist and crushed his lips on hers...

Seven years after registering our marriage, my husband Gaius and I finally decided to hold the romantic wedding ceremony we had missed back then. That day, I wore the wedding gown I had designed myself and walked toward him with hopeful eyes. Before I could deliver my carefully prepared vows, an incident interrupted the moment. Amid the stunned murmurs of the guests, Gaius dashed toward the woman who had fainted—again—at my wedding. His voice trembled with urgency, eyes burning red. "Call an ambulance! Now!" He didn't even look back as he left the wedding hall. When the wedding bell rang seven times, I calmly pulled off my veil. Facing the guests who had yet to disperse, I smiled and said, "As you can see, today marks the divorce ceremony between Gaius and me. Please, eat and drink to your heart's content. Don't let the trip go to waste!"

Just for brushing against the hem of Eva Lawson, the heiress’s custom couture gown, Lucy Quinn's mother had her limbs broken, then thrown into the sea to die. The day Lucy dragged the arrogant heiress to court she thought that justice might finally be served. Eva was declared not guilty. Why? Because the defense attorney representing her was none other than Wyatt Grant, founder of the most untouchable law firm in River City, and Lucy Quinn’s husband. When the trial ended, the elegant and aloof man stepped down from the defense table and placed an apology letter in front of Lucy. "Lulu, sign it. You don’t want to be sued for defamation and end up in prison, do you?" His tone was calm and coaxing, but behind the lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze was cold as ice. Lucy, tears stubbornly clinging to her eyes, looked up at him and said with a trembling voice, "Why, Wyatt, Why?"

The day I married Vincent Sorrentino, Lena, the Sorrentino family’s adopted daughter, threatened to jump off the steeple of the family church. Vincent left me standing at the altar in my custom wedding gown, no hesitation, just bolted after her. With every New York crime boss, politician, and oligarch staring at me, I looked out at the crowd and said loud and clear: “Any man who walks up here right now and says ‘I do’? I’ll marry you.” Three years later, Vincent was back into the Sorrentino family’s Long Island estate, Lena on his arm. I was sitting on the leather couch in the main living room, watching my favorate TV show. Vincent’s eyes locked on my huge pregnant belly, his jaw tight, growling through his teeth: “Whose bastard is in there?” I took a sip of orange juice, curled my lip into a smile, and said: “It's a Sorrentino baby, of course.”