Madness Sanford Mga Nobela at Kwento

"Mr. Sanford is the man! Two beauties at once, he's surely living the dream!" "Tonight's your big night, Mr. Sanford! You get to explore two women at once. It doesn't get better than this!" "They're both stunning beauties! Mr. Sanford, don't forget to leave us some scraps after you're done!" The crude laughter filled the room, leaving Aspen and Christina with anger and shame. Christina clenched her fists, her pride stung deeply. She despised anyone making jokes about her looks or body, but this was not her company or her territory—it was Rodney's turf, and Madblade Martial Academy was not a place the Stevens family could afford to cross lightly.

He pried her fingers away from him and stated plainly, “She has been with me for many years. Even a dog is still worthy enough of emotional attachment.” Clarice stumbled backward. Her makeup was smudged with tears. "You'll regret this…” The black Maybach sped away. Clarice's figure began to shrink in the rearview mirror until it vanished into the nighttime horizon. Arthur rolled down the car window to let the cold wind rush in, and yet, it was not enough to tune out the chaotic voices in his head. He received a few more texts from his assistant. “Mr. Renault, we found out that Miss Buccaneer contacted a company specializing in cultural activities in a neighboring city. They refused to disclo

Sandra teased, handing Jessica the hotdog sandwich she’d bought from a sidewalk store. Sandra ate heartily outside, leaning against the open window of her friend’s car. Jessica, wary of the paparazzi who might be trailing her, didn’t dare step out. Sandra’s eyes wandered and landed on a massive arena. Across the front, bold letters spelled MADISON SQUARE GARDEN. Beside it hung a giant photo of a basketball player. "Huh, I know him!" she exclaimed, eyes widening as she pointed at the picture. "Of course you do. Even I know him. Wow, he must be really famous if even you recognize him!" Jessica said with a laugh.

Suddenly, another name came to mind, someone who might be the right person to call. "I'm tied up here until the competition ends," he told Madison. "I'll text you a number to call—explain the situation to him, and he'll definitely find a way to help." "Thank you, Dr. Sanchez," Madison said. As soon as the call ended, Madison received the contact info and immediately dialed. "Hello, I'm Madison. Dr. Sanchez gave me your number and asked me to explain what's happening, saying you'd be able to help… Here's the situation, you see. Miranda Sutton's…"

“You’re right. We need to keep his family out of this. I’m trying to figure out a way to get this guy off your back besides beating him to death, because that’s what I wanted to do tonight.” “I think you embarrassed him. I’m not sure if he’ll keep coming after me.” Madden shrugged. “I need to be sure.” “Are you gonna tell my dad what happened?” I asked. “When the time is right. Mr. Sanders and Sammy are both on a plane to North Carolina. They don’t need to worry until I’m worried.” “You’re not?” Madden lifted his gaze to mine. “Not yet.” We said our goodnights shortly after a long silence that left me feeling worried. Madden didn’t say it but I felt the tense atmosphere he tried to hide. I s

Bryan looked up at him and Storm couldn’t wipe off the dreamy smile on his face as Bryan spoke about her. “Good, I trust you to be tight-lipped about it.” “Yes Stormy.” He gave a mock salute. “See you later boss.” “Sure thing.” He exited the room. “Okay guys.” Bryan held up the sheet of paper. “Results!” Maureen sipped on her wine. “Morgan Sanders.” “Alrighty then.” Raymond intertwined his fingers, cracking his knuckles. Maureen studied the piece of paper Bryan passed out. Morgan Sanders Female 42 Las Vegas, California.

Why would they make me leave? My body goes stiff. He’s coming. Has it already been 30 days? My stomach churns. “You need to eat lunch, Mrs. Samson.” I bury my face in the pillow, but more hands pull me away. “No! Stop!” I cry, thrashing. “You can’t—” My eyes are closed, but I know the voice that greets me in the hallway. “Ah, there she is,” Hank. The pyromaniac. He burned down two churches and a bank before being admitted. He peers into my room as the nurses drag me out and carry me to one of the day rooms.

" His words came rapid-fire, laced with the panic and fury of someone caught in a lie. Vincenzo had once promised that, no matter what happened, he would be with me for my birthday every year. My fingers holding the phone turned icy cold. Just then, the hushed conversation of two dockworkers beside me drifted over. "For this ceremony, Don Rizze halted arms shipment at the new dock for months. He even cleared out a cargo ship specifically to serve as the venue." Those words shattered the last shred of hope I had been clinging to.

Professional pain in my ass. "You clean up nicely for someone who used to show up to training covered in mud," he says. Matt appears behind him already grinning. "My favorite cousin finally joined the political circus." "Oh no," I say immediately. "What gossip do you have?" Matt's eyes light up instantly. "You're not going to believe this." Robbie groans under his breath. "Here we go." Matt leans closer dramatically. "Sandra dropped out of school." I blink. "...What?" "She got her mate."

But not in the way I hoped it would turn out. The impact of the launch shook my entire body that I lost my grip of the wheel. The pod then spiraled out of control. My sight was so blurry I couldn't see what was on the monitor. I just saw it blaring red, and I know that's a bad sign. Like it's about to hit something. Shit. I racked my mind of what Nik told me in case I lose control of the pod, or basically of bad things that are about to happen. This counts as a bad thing, right?