Lyrics Dust In The Wind Kansas Novels & Stories

When my best friend died, his wife, Mia Lewis, was eight months pregnant. Mia said she didn't want her baby growing up without a father. I owed my best friend my life. He saved me, literally pulled me from death's door. So I stepped up, marrying Mia and raising their son as my own. Mia loved her career, so I quit mine. Traded my job for diapers and school runs. For seven whole years, I cooked, cleaned, folded laundry, and handled the housework. Rain or shine, sickness or health, I was there—every single day. Mia, though? She stayed cold, distant. Her warmth only surfaced in the bedroom—and even then, it was a flicker, never a flame. Just soft sighs and breathy murmurs, like she was playing a role she couldn't wait to finish. Afterward, she would quietly check the condom, as if she couldn't trust me. Then came New Year's Eve. A snap. A tear. A broken condom. Her fury struck like a thunderclap. She locked me out on the balcony, left me standing in the freezing rain, soaked to the bone as the wind howled like a wounded beast. Teeth chattering, I shivered as I watched the door like a dog, waiting to be let in. Then I saw him. Our boy, Ethan Bailey. Six years old. My son, at least in name. He came running with an umbrella in his hand. For a second, my heart leapt. 'Maybe, just maybe…' But he didn't even look at me. Just walked past in silence and handed the umbrella to the nanny heading out. Right then and there, something inside me cracked. I knew it was time to go.

“I shake the mountains, blew the wind, burnt the fire; but when you got me, you wreck everything of me.” —Rage Koughart Thompson A hopeless romantic, Graceian Herrit Simson is content with her simple life. Being so inlove with her long timed fiance, Bill Marco, she never wish something more. Now, their relationship lasted long for years now, believes that her fiance would be the one and last man who will come to her life. Although, unexpected things happened; doubt leads to mistrust, she just saw herself hiring a private investigator to check her fiance. There, she met the investigator, Mr. Thompson, who should be Mr. Baltemore. She induced him being the most rude investigator ever which she shouldn't supposed to. Rage Koughart Thompson, a CEO of Thompson Cruise Corporations, an indeed business minded person, have already announced to media that he had no time to such unnecessary things. For him, time is millions, not worth wasting for something or someone nothing to do with his life. Unfortunately, he just found himself keeping a woman who doesn't even do good to him. As an accident happened, his uncle, Brando Baltemore, the best private investigator needs to hide as his life is at danger. Rage took the old man's responsibilities, not expecting that he also need to make an effort for a useless woman. His wasted time for Grace is like a waste of millions on his hands. And an offended Grace, she can't admitted that even she's mad, her hopeless heart still love and hopes. She dealt fasts her long time fiance but dealing with a rude man were the worst. She tried to move on but little did she know, she played fire with fire. Her heart keeps on bouncing back to its cage like nothing had harmed her.

At the entrance of Marriott International, Kellan walked out of the revolving door in a white suit. The wind lifted a corner of his shirt, revealing the cufflinks of his custom-made shirt. This time it was a diamond-studded Suzaku, exactly the same as the one in the presidential suite five years ago. Eva's breath missed a beat until Rosie suddenly screamed, "Dad, you're so handsome!" The carriage froze instantly. Kellan raised his eyebrows and looked at the passenger seat. The little girl was clinging to the seat, her eyes shining like stars: "You look like the prince in my painting!" She had just drawn an "ideal dad" in kindergarten yesterday. In the crooked lines, there was a tall man wearing a neat suit, his cuffs gleaming. Eva's face flushed red, and she hurriedly explained, "The child is just talking nonsense..." But when she looked up, she met Kellan's eyes—he was staring at Rosie, and his dark eyes were filled with tenderness that he himself didn't even notice. This man who made the whole business world tremble, at this moment, raised the corner of his lips towards the child, although it was only a very shallow arc, but it made the temperature in the car rise quietly. When the car arrived at the destination, Kellan suddenly said before getting off the car: "Your daughter is very cute." *** Imagine your child calling a stranger “Daddy”… and neither of you realize he’s actually her real father — the man who got you pregnant years ago before fate tore you apart deciding you won't see his face or know him. Now he’s standing right in front of you, powerful, untouchable, and staring at your daughter with a tenderness he can’t explain....

When the half-mile sprint test is about to begin, Quiana Sullivan, the class president, and I have applied to be exempted from it. My own mother, who's the homeroom teacher of my class, approves Quiana's application with a smile. But she then throws mine to the floor. "You're having a chest pain, you say? I can't believe you're able to come up with such lies just to avoid the half-mile sprint! I'd have known if you had a heart condition! "Quiana is weak by nature, not to mention she's on her period right now, so she can't handle the agony. What about you, hmm? You've always been perfectly healthy, yet now you're telling me that you're suffering from heart pain? "Don't go around embarrassing me just because you want to slack off! I don't want others claiming that I'm being biased toward my own child! As long as you're still alive and kicking, you must finish the half-mile course no matter what!" Left without a choice, I can only return to the field. The cold wind makes me feel even dizzier now. My heart keeps contracting uncontrollably against my will. Suddenly, it just stops pumping. The next thing I know, I collapse onto the grassy field heavily. When my consciousness is about to flicker to darkness, my mom finally walks over to me. But she merely kicks my arm with a frown on her face, and her tone remains glacial. "Stop playing dead. Get up right now." She doesn't realize that I can never open my eyes ever again. Isn't this great, Mom? No one will ever claim that you're biased toward your own child. I've used my life to prove how fair and just you are. You must be happy now, right?

After five years of being mated to Alpha Lucas, I finally got pregnant. Lucas and I were ecstatic, but five months into the pregnancy, I suffered an accidental miscarriage. The Chief Healer told me it was because my wolf was too weak. I couldn't handle the news and blacked out. The usually stoic Alpha couldn't stop weeping. I thought he was as devastated as I was. That was until I accidentally overheard his conversation with his Beta. "Alpha, why gag the healer? Luna clearly ingested Wolfsbane. Why aren't we hunting down the culprit?" Beta Marcus's voice was full of confusion. "We bury this." Lucas's voice was heavy with suppressed pain. "It was Isabella. She slipped Wolfsbane into Emily's tonic by mistake. Isabella suffered severe brain damage saving me three years ago; she has the mind of a five-year-old. She can't tell the difference between Wolfsbane and Moon Grass..." "She just wanted to help brew the tonic to help Emily get better, to make me happy. But if the Council catches wind of this, they will absolutely execute Isabella for murdering the Alpha heir." Ever since Isabella saved his life three years ago and became mentally regressed, she had shamelessly invaded our lives. On stormy nights, she would crawl into Lucas's bed wearing translucent lingerie, crying that she was scared, forcing Lucas to hold her all night while I was relegated to the guest room. He always said Isabella was brain-damaged, stuck with the IQ of a five-year-old, just like a child. He treated her like a sister and told me not to hold it against her. Since you loved your Isabella so much, I would grant you your wish. I picked up the private phone I hadn't used in five years. "I regret it. I'm willing to return to the Royal Pack. Come get me tomorrow." But when I truly disappeared, the once arrogant Alpha killed his precious Isabella and begged me to come back.

On the night of our third anniversary, Killian missed dinner again. Texted me he was working late at the auto shop. I looked at the $5.90 clearance cake on the table. I'd fought a crowd at the grocery store to buy it. I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat. We need to save for a real house in Brooklyn, I told myself. I put the cake in the fridge. I wrapped my cheap coat tight and walked into the cold to deliver late-night takeout for extra cash. I never expected to run into my "poor" husband at a luxury hotel in Manhattan. He stepped out of a Rolls-Royce in a sharp custom suit, tossing hundred-dollar bills to the valet. A hot woman wearing a priceless pigeon-blood ruby followed behind him, hooking his arm. "Killian, it's snowing so hard. Are you really going back to Brooklyn to play house with your naive little peasant wife?" she whined. Killian looked at the cheap, tarnished silver ring on his finger. A hint of softness crossed his cold eyes. "For three years, she worked five jobs a day to pay off the fake debts I made up. She wouldn't even see a doctor when she was sick." "That's enough. She passed my test. Once I deal with the rat in the family, I'll tell her everything. Give her the glory she deserves as my Donna." The woman bit her lip. "What if she finds out you're a Mafia Don and is just after your money? Why not tell her you have a terminal illness—see if she'll drain her savings to save you. Test her one more time…" Killian stayed quiet for a long time. Finally, he nodded. "One last test. After this, I'm giving her the grandest wedding." The freezing wind howled. I gripped the paper takeout bag. Tears rolled down my face without a sound. I am done with this arrogant, lying love.

I had always been fragile, the kind of kid who could not handle a gust of wind without losing balance and who teared up over the smallest thing. The day my biological parents found me and took me back into their wealthy world, everything had already felt unreal. Then, things got worse. Out of nowhere, an old woman came sprinting down the street and dropped right in front of the Bentley, like she had timed it perfectly. I panicked and completely froze, so I did the only thing I could think of. I dropped down beside her and started crying. However, I overdid it. I cried so hard that blood started streaming from my eyes. The old woman jolted upright like she had seen something horrifying. She shoved 500 dollars into my hands, muttered a string of curses, and ran off without looking back. Just like that, I was back with the Snyder family. The house rose in front of me, all polished stone and perfectly kept lawns, like something out of a magazine. However, the closer I got, the more my nerves kicked in, and that familiar metallic taste crept up my throat again. The so-called heir walked over, smiling like we were supposed to be close. Then, he gave me a light shove. He leaned in, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Stay in your place. Don't start wanting things that were never yours." Right there, in front of everyone, I leaned back and collapsed. I did not move at all. He froze. His face turned red as he grabbed my collar and shook me. "Quit pretending. Get up!" A few seconds passed, then a few more, before he slowly turned his head, his movements stiff. Tiny drops of blood speckled his clothes. His voice trembled. "Mom… Dad… I think…" He swallowed hard. "I think he stopped breathing."

I died on the day I was supposed to form a mate bond with Alpha Ragnar. Since I did not show up, he went ahead and performed the ceremony with his childhood sweetheart, Nina. “Selena has already been marked by me, yet she still threw caution to the wind and cheated with a rogue. Her betrayal has brought shame upon us. She’s not worthy of being the pack’s Luna!” With just one careless sentence, Ragnar made my family a disgrace of the pack. My father was once a great warrior of the pack. He lost his wolf saving Ragnar, only to be drowned in a river as punishment for supposedly failing to discipline his own daughter. Our blood bond allowed me to feel his pain. However, I had been locked in a sealed, abandoned interrogation room—a silver cage. The mechanism inside was accidentally triggered, and thick poisonous gas filled the space. It killed me slowly and painfully. After my soul left my body, I appeared beside Ragnar and heard him say to Nina, “Thanks for your help today. If Selena hadn’t acted so foolishly, you wouldn’t have had to take her place in the ceremony. Ever since I marked her, she’s been getting bolder, thinking my affection gives her a free pass. How dare she skip such an important ceremony?!” However, the noble Alpha Ragnar seemed to have forgotten something. Just seven days ago, he threw me into a silver cage meant only for the most dangerous criminals to appease Nina. “You hurt Nina, so you must face the consequences. Take these three days to reflect. If you still won't admit your mistake, then don’t even think about ever leaving this place for the rest of your life.” I waited three days and then three more. The poisonous gas and silver ate away at my body, corroding me from the outside in. I endured seven days of unbearable pain before I finally died. When my body was found, it had been so ravaged by the poison that I was unrecognizable. As for the arrogant Alpha? He had completely lost his mind.

After the Ferguson family went bankrupt, I gave up everything I had and followed Ethan Ferguson to Stormbay. Five years later, he had fought his way back into the top three on the Forbes rich list. He rebuilt the empire everyone believed he had lost for good. He never mentioned marriage, no matter how much we had been through together. I did not understand the reason until the night before Memorial Day. I woke after midnight and saw Ethan standing alone on the terrace of our beachfront house. The cold ocean wind swept through the darkness while he lit three white candles one by one. Their flames flickered softly against the night. He faced the distant horizon across the sea and lowered his voice. “Mom, Dad… I’m sorry I couldn’t come see you again this year.” He paused, and his expression softened. “However, please keep watching over Vivi. Keep her healthy… and bless the two of us with a long, happy life together.” Warmth spread through my chest as I listened. My health had never been good, and every year near Memorial Day, Ethan refused to let me exhaust myself with the long trip home. He always went alone to visit his parents’ graves while I stayed behind in Stormbay. This year, when I saw the homesickness in his eyes, I decided to surprise him. I wanted to make the trip in his place. I never expected my entire world to collapse the moment I arrived at the cemetery. Ethan’s name was carved into the headstone. Beside it was the name of another woman. Olivia Ferguson. My gaze drifted lower. A framed family photograph sat at the foot of the headstone. Its edges had curled from the ocean wind. In the picture, Ethan held a little blond-haired boy in his arms. The child looked no older than three. Olivia stood beside him, smiling softly at the camera. A sharp pain cut through my chest. Only then did I understand the truth. The “Vivi” Ethan prayed for was never Vivian. It had been Olivia all along.