Laundromat Quincy Ma Novels & Stories

"Ma'am, you have dengue," Keisha felt extremely weak upon hearing the news from the doctor. She didn't know how she contracted dengue and why. "Doctor, what are you injecting? Is it necessary?" the doctor replied, assuring her that he knew what he was doing. She trusted the doctor and believed she would recover. She allowed him to administer the injection in her sensitive area. In less than a week, she was discharged, and indeed the doctor had done a great job. But as time went by, she felt changes in her body. She often vomited in the morning and felt abdominal discomfort. These were signs that she was pregnant! How could this happen? She was still a virgin! Until she remembered the injection administered by the doctor. She realized that what was injected into her was worse than Dengvaxia, as she now had to endure nine months until she gave birth. But the big problem was, who was the father of her unborn child? She didn't know that she was bearing the Billionaire Heir.

I am a miserable nurse. During the Halloween season, there was a three day break but I was not given any days off. Upset, I decided to join a game featuring a haunted hospital. There was an old man wrapped in IV tubes chasing after a player. I sprinted forward and shoved him into the chair. After effortlessly jabbing the IV line back in him, I told him off, "It’s just an IV drip, not an action movie. Sit. Down. Move again and I’ll strap you to the chair!" The old man did a double take before blinking in a flustered manner. "Sorry for causing you trouble, ma'am." At night, children ghosts began to run and laugh wildly in the corridor. I grabbed one in each hand and hauled them up. "If you’re not going to stay put in the ward, I’ll give you an injection!" Why did I still have to work in a game? I was so tired. The other players cried out, "Clem! That's a ghost. Are you not scared?" I sneered, "Sorry, but burnt-out workers hold more grudges than ghosts ever could."

The day my fated mate, Blake, held his mating ceremony with the pack’s true princess, Morgana, I almost did it. I almost chugged a vial of rage serum, stormed the altar, and tore them both to shreds. A murder-suicide. A fitting end. But as my hand trembled around the vial, my phone rang. It was the doctor from the Alliance Medical Center. "Ma'am, you're pregnant..." The vial slipped from my fingers. I froze. Half an hour later, cheers erupted from the pack's Moonlight Altar. And just like that, I, the fake princess of the Crescent Moon pack, vanished from Silvercrest City. Just as everyone wanted. I fled a thousand miles to the Southern Alliance. I survived a rogue wolf riot and gave birth to my daughter. My own blood. My old life was completely gone. But four years later, they started showing up again, one by one. “Cora, we’ve been looking for you for years. You’re alive? Why didn’t you come home?”

In her right state of mind, she would never have even been in a strangers car more less kissing him deeply at the backseat, but she wasn't in her right state of mind. Jeff's hand came down her face, to her neck, he held her waist gently and she let out a soft moan. She had nothing on but a silk gown that had thin straps. “Sir, ma'm we're here" Walter said out loud. They hadn't noticed the car had stopped some minutes ago. Emily's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she quickly sat upright, and picked her purse and heels. …. They had a misunderstanding when they met, an intimate moment the second time they met. All a big misunderstanding and they swore to never cross paths again. Little did Emily know Jeff was her new boss and the first son of Frank Aston, Billionaire and Head of Aston corporations. Third time’s the charm, but not for these two who knew they had fallen for each other but couldn’t be together.

I'd spent an entire year preparing for my son Tristan Pascall's spot at a top international school. By the final admissions review, I had every single document ready. All that was missing was the original copy of Richard Pascall and my marriage certificate. Once we handed that in, it would be official. But when we got to the admissions office, Richard turned on me, accusing me of arranging this without telling him. Before I could clap back, the admin frowned and said, "Ma'am, according to the system, Mr. Pascall's spouse isn't you." My whole body went cold. And then Iris Poole—who had been standing behind Richard this whole time—stepped up and slid her marriage certificate across the counter. The staff checked it, nodded, and said, "Mr. Pascall, Ms. Poole, your registration date is June, four years ago. Everything looks fine. You may proceed." June, four years ago. That was the exact month Richard held my hand in front of all our friends and family at our engagement party and promised I was his one true love. He had lied to me about that for the past seven years.

As I walk out of the emergency room, a woman rushes over to me. "You're a doctor, right? My son scraped his knee. Hurry up and come treat him!" I am about to explain, but she glares at me and questions indignantly, "Isn't a doctor supposed to save people? You have time to slack off, but you have no time to treat my son's wound. Is that it?" She grabs my collar and drags me toward the ward. I try to explain, "Ma'am, I’m not—" But she doesn't listen at all and slaps me across the face. "Not what? Are you blind? Can't you see my son is bleeding? Instead of helping my son, you treat those poor nobodies! If you keep delaying my son's treatment, I won't let you off! "Get on your knees and apologize to him right now! Otherwise, I'll file a complaint and have your license revoked!" I endure the sharp pain and struggle to lift my head. In my five years of practicing medicine, this is the first time I have ever been complained about by a living person. "It's not that I won't treat him. I am a forensic pathologist..."

“The agreement won’t be valid unless your husband signs it, ma’am.” The lawyer shot me a dismissive glance as I signed my name. “I know you’d like to use this as a way to flirt with your husband. After all, you can’t possibly be foolish enough to walk away from billions with nothing.” I gave him a faint smile, tucked the papers away, and sent a message to my husband’s most trusted secretary, Jolene. Even now, no one has realized that I had been reborn. My hand drifted to my still-flat stomach. The warmth and anticipation in my eyes were gone, replaced by cold resolve. I had to make sure my child and I “die” together, in front of everyone. In my previous life, everyone envied me for marrying Leo, the head of the Kosa mafia family. I thought I was the happiest woman in the city. Anything my gaze lingered on for more than three seconds, he would have someone deliver to me immediately. It was just because he thought it would make me happy. In this life, all I wanted was to end my marriage to Leo as quickly as possible!

“Wait hold on” I had to stop him “how much does this house cost?” “This house costs approximately 12million dollars ma’am” he let out. Gravity failed me because I almost fell over at the mention of the price. I turned to look at Daniela and the uneasy expression she had on her face said it all. “And the government paid for the house?” I referred the question to the man. His eyebrows knitted in a confused scowl. “The government? No they have nothing to do with this” “So who paid for the house then?” “Edward Salvatore” he blurted out. My heart dropped…… When Anne ex tries to come back into her life after leaving her 5 years when he disappeared a day to their wedding. As a billionaire, he tries to buy his way into her life, but she vows not to give in to his money and his irresistible charms. Unknown to Edward, he had a child with her. It was devastating for Anne when he found out because of how determined it made him to get both his daughter and her. All he needs is to get her trust back. Would she give the same man who broke her heart a chance and would she let him have any privileged of being a father to his daughter, well find out in this story

Our usually reliable nanny, Emma Spencer, called me three times in a row today, sounding completely panicked. "Ma’am, something’s wrong. The kindergarten security won’t let Noah in, no matter what! They said the name that shows up when they scan the card doesn’t match. The card belongs to a kid named 'Gabriel', not our Noah at all!" My hand paused over the report I was reviewing, my brows furrowing. "Emma, didn't my husband hand the card to you himself last night?" On the other end, she sounded like she was about to cry. "Yes! But the scanner shows the name 'Gabriel Cooper'. The guard says we must have the wrong card and keeps questioning me!" That didn’t make any sense. To get Noah into the top-tier Starlight Bilingual Academy, I had pulled every string I could half a year ago and paid a $300,000 donation just to secure a spot. For the past month, my husband, Scott Shaw, had been the one driving our son to school every day. This morning, he said he was busy and couldn’t take Noah, so Emma went instead. So how did it suddenly turn into someone else’s school card the moment she took over?

I wake up to find the entire room shrouded in thick smoke and flames. I grab my phone and call my boyfriend, a fire captain I've been dating for five years. The phone rings seven whole times before he finally picks up. His sharp, irate voice comes through before I can get a word out. "Bella! How many times have I told you not to make false fire reports out of jealousy! You're a Warrior. Don't you feel ashamed of yourself for constantly picking fights with an Omega like Laura?" Suddenly, I hear Laura Knapp's sweet, pitiful voice on the line. "Thank you, Daniel. I'm safe because of you." As the flames spread, I have no option but to dial the emergency hotline. But the dispatcher tells me, "Sorry, ma'am, but all firefighters in your area are currently tied up. The earliest we can send help is in 30 minutes. Please hold on." I hang up with a bitter smile and see the news of a fire captain rescuing an injured pregnant woman. The flames close in around me, and just before death takes me, I send Daniel Ingram one last text. "Farewell. I wish you a happy life together."