Last Hour Of Gann

After my mother shot down my pleas to cover my medical bills the 100th time, I clutched my bone cancer diagnosis papers and trudged to the crematorium. "Hi, I'd like to reserve a cremation slot ahead of time," I muttered to the clerk. Half an hour ticked by before my parents and adopted brother arrived in their car. My dad, a forensic pathologist, cracked me across the face. "You're pulling a fake-death stunt now, just to steal the spotlight from your brother?" My mom, a hospital director, snatched the papers from my hands and shredded them into confetti. "Faking records using my credentials and tying up hospital resources? You've crossed the line!" My brother cried, tugging at their sleeves. "It's all my fault. I'll skip the amusement park forever. I don't need a thing. Just quit riling up Mom and Dad." I spun around, my hand pressed against my throbbing chest, and begged the crematorium staff. "Please, when it's time, cremate me and scatter the ashes in the river. I've got no family left in this world."

Yvonne Larson, my housekeeper, has always been punctual, but she ends up being late today. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Carter. Dinner's not ready yet. I hope you won't mind. I had no choice. I waited for over half an hour, but no one got the door for me. I even called Mrs. Carter a few times, but she didn't take my calls. That's why I ended up running late." Halfway through changing into my house slippers, I pause and frown. "Yvonne, didn't Susanna give you the access card to the apartment?" Yvonne looks confused. "The access card? Mrs. Carter never gave me any card." "Never?" "That's right," Yvonne confirms timidly while wiping the sweat off her brow. "For the past month, I've always had to call Mrs. Carter and ask her to open the door for me. She wasn't picking up her phone today, so I had to wait outside…" That's strange. I've checked the logs before. The access card has been used multiple times throughout the past month.

Lara Via Smith has inlove with Cole Aiden Miller, the cold and heartless man. She confessed her feelings on her debut day, he was her last dance. But he broke her heart. It was their first and last dance It was the last time she would take a glance To the man she love for a long time, and that time she give up for taking another chance.

My lawyer wife’s assistant got into trouble again. This time, he had been driving at nearly sixty miles an hour in a residential neighborhood and crashed into my seventy-year-old mother, sending her flying. My mother had gotten paralyzed from the accident after suffering fractures in dozens of places. She would be bedbound for the rest of her life. My wife represented her assistant in court again. She claimed that my mother had intentionally gotten in the path of her assistant’s vehicle to get compensation money, and that was how the crash happened. She pushed all the responsibility back on my mother. In the end, her assistant was pronounced innocent and released, while I had to pay him for damages. “Tyson, he’s just a twenty-five-year-old kid. He knows nothing. If he got sent to jail, his life would be ruined. Don’t pursue this with him.” After the lawsuit, the assistant rushed to make an online post. [My lawyer’s so gorgeous. She’s an angel of justice!] Florence liked the post right in front of me. Meanwhile, I stayed so calm it was scary. “Let’s get a divorce, Florence.”

My name is Ivy Lawson. At 3:00 am, I get a call from Christina McSpire, a parent of one of my students. "Hello, Ms. Lawson, I noticed Zoe only spent five dollars on her meal yesterday. Did she not eat any meat?" she asks. Pushing through my exhaustion, I reply, "Don't worry, Mrs. Street. I'll check on it tomorrow." Another half hour goes by, and she calls again. "It's supposed to rain tomorrow. Can you remind Zoe to bring an umbrella?" I can hardly keep my eyes open. "Got it," I reply absentmindedly. A few minutes later, my phone rings once more. "Please make sure Zoe brushes her teeth for three minutes. It's also important that she scrubs each side of her face at least three times." Suppressing my frustration, I calmly respond, "Zoe is in her senior year of high school. I'm sure she's capable of taking care of herself." I expect that to be the end of it, but when I wake up, my silenced phone shows over a hundred missed calls.

Richard Lorde’s childhood friend had just become a widow. On our fifth wedding anniversary, he brought his childhood friend and her daughter into a karaoke box and removed my ring right before everyone. “Lily needs a proper status right now. It’s no longer right for you to wear that ring. “Resign from your job tomorrow and take care of Lily and her daughter.” Everyone in the room fell silent as they waited for me to blow my top off. But I said nothing. I calmly brought out the divorce agreement I had already signed, put it on the table, and left. My best friend stood up to advise me against it, but Richard just swung the wine glass and snorted. “Let her. She’ll come begging for my forgiveness before tomorrow.” When I slammed the door shut, I heard laughter from the room. What they did not know was that half an hour ago, I had received a message telling me that my visa application had been approved. The person in charge of picking me up had been waiting at my house ten minutes ago. This time, I was not turning back.

“I have signed the divorce.” “Go then, weak Beta, and never say that you were part of my pack, let alone that you were my wife. I am ashamed.” “It is well. Goodbye, Baitana” “My name is Aitana” says Aitana with a lump in her throat. “As you wish. Now go away, if you spend more than an hour they can arrest you for breaking and entering.” “Ok, I'm leaving.” says Aitana turning around as she leaves behind the love of her life and her past. As soon as she leaves, the doors close and she puts her hand to her belly. ‘I'm sorry mom, I had to do it’ Aitana says to herself mentally. Aitana leaves and a few minutes later, the butler receives news that sends him running to his boss's office. “Sir!” “Don't shout, I'm not deaf.” “The lady...” “She has finally signed the divorce. Finally, I'm free.” “It's not that, Madame is pregnant.” “What did you say?” shouts the alpha, making his butler tremble. “I...” “Go get her right now!”

My life had escalated to an unimaginable point. I was pregnant with a child who possessed powers beyond my understanding, a child of a man who was supposed to be my mate's enemy. And now, I was on the run dependent on a stranger. I knew I wouldn't survive out there alone, especially with a child on the way. And going back to Claus, to his lies and his betrayals was no longer an option. The thought made me sick. "So," he asked, his voice breaking the silence, "will you come with me? Or will you go back to Claus? If you decide to go back to him, I wouldn't blame you." His eyes held a gentle understanding, an absence of judgment that was both surprising and comforting. "But for now, I need to know. Do you trust me?" I looked at him, truly looked at him. The man who had unknowingly marked me, the man who had brought me solace in my darkest hour and the man who was now offering me a future, however uncertain. He was a stranger yet he felt more like a sanctuary than Claus ever had. "I'll come with you," I said, my voice barely a whisper, but firm with a newfound resolve.

On the tenth day of my postpartum recovery, my husband, Deputy Commander Harvey Wyatt, uploads a photo of me breastfeeding my newborn in a disheveled state to the department's group chat. Obviously, that photo was taken without my knowledge. "See? After having a kid, she's as loose as a sack. It makes me sick just looking at her. I much prefer my side piece, who's nice and tight." A few female colleagues send sweating emojis to the group. The majority of the chat, however, consists of the male colleagues' perverse silence. While I continue to burp my baby with one hand, my tears land on the screen. In order to give birth to this baby, my pelvic bone was sawn in half, which causes me so much pain that I can't even walk properly. But all I get in return is my own husband body-shaming me in front of hundreds of people. I don't bother arguing with Harvey at all. Half an hour later, I drag my broken body all the way to the commander's office with a divorce agreement as well as the chat history over the past ten days, which has been printed out, in my hands.

On the night of our eighth anniversary, I cooked everything Ethan loved. He didn't come home. I sat alone at the table until the food went cold. Then I did what I always did. I opened Selene's profile on the pack network. New post. One hour ago. A photo of Ethan, shirtless, building a fire in her den. Her hand on his shoulder. Her face turned toward the camera with a smile that showed too many teeth. The caption read: Grateful for old friends who drop everything when you need them. Even their marking anniversaries. I stared at it until my eyes burned. Then I liked it. Filed the bond-dissolution request. And started packing the trunk I'd kept ready for months. Ethan didn't believe it when he found out. "She's throwing a fit," I heard he told his packmates. "Give her three days." "I'll crook my finger and she'll come running back." "She always does." What he didn't understand was why I always came back. It was because I loved him. That was gone now.