Maria Clara Monologue

Nach dem Tod seiner ersten Liebe hasste Alexander Müller mich zehn Jahre lang. Ich versuchte überall, ihm zu gefallen, aber er lachte nur kalt: „Wenn du mich wirklich zufriedenstellen willst, dann stirb lieber.“ Mein Herz schmerzte, doch als der große Lkw auf mich zuraste, starb er in einer Blutlache, um mich zu retten. Vor seinem Tod blickte er mich tief an: „Wenn... ich dir nur niemals begegnet wäre.“ Bei der Beerdigung war Frau Müller untröstlich. „Damals hätte ich Alexander und Greta zusammenbringen sollen, anstatt ihn zu zwingen, dich zu heiraten!“ Herr Müller hasste mich: „Alexander hat dich drei Mal gerettet, so ein guter Mensch – warum bist du nicht gestorben!“ Alle bedauerten, dass Alexander mich geheiratet hatte, ich eingeschlossen. Völlig gebrochen wurde ich von der Beerdigung vertrieben. Drei Jahre später tauchte plötzlich eine Zeitmaschine auf, und ich kehrte in die Vergangenheit zurück. Dieses Mal beschloss ich, jede Verbindung zu Alexander abzubrechen und allen anderen zu ihrem Glück zu verhelfen.

Ten years ago, Elena, my best friend and my foster brother Alexander's fiancée, was tortured to death, every bone in her body crushed. I was the only witness, yet I chose to cover for the sadistic murderer. From that day on, I became the Family's greatest traitor. I accepted a ten-year prison sentence and bit off half my tongue just to keep that secret buried. Now, Alexander has returned as the most ruthless Don in Sicily. He dragged me out of my cell and strapped me into the memory extraction chair—a machine known to turn traitors into vegetables. As high-voltage currents tore through my brain, Alexander stared at me with eyes full of hatred and roared, "I will cut open your brain to find the bastard you’re protecting, and then I’ll send you both to hell!" But when the true killer's face finally appeared on the big screen, Alexander went mad.

I've been married to my Mafia Boss husband for 15 years. When we first got married, he couldn't even afford a ring, but I didn't care; I loved him. I hid my identity. I secretly used my family's influence to help him build his empire from scratch, and I even bore him two children. His adopted sister always mocked me, calling me an old-fashioned housewife and saying I wasn't good enough for him. To avoid embarrassing him, I always endured it. Until our 15th anniversary, because both me and his adopted sister wore red dresses, he told me to stay in the kitchen: "Sofia's right. That red doesn't suit you. Don't come out until the banquet actually ends. Stay in the kitchen. I don't need the Dons from New York seeing you and getting the wrong impression." I was completely heartbroken and didn't argue anymore. I dialed a number I hadn't made in 15 years: "Principessa?" "It's me," I said, my voice steady. "Tell those old fossils on the Council... Isabella Corleone is coming home."

Untuk mengembalikan hak waris pria yang kucintai dari keluarga mafianya, aku memberikan salah satu korneaku padanya. Namun, saat dia mendapatkan kembali penglihatannya, alih-alih menikahkanku dengannya, keluargaku malah memilih kakak perempuanku untuk menjadi pasangan hidupnya. Di kehidupanku yang lalu, aku berusaha mencarinya dan menjelaskan segalanya, tetapi dia menolakku. Keluargaku sendiri mengasingkanku dan aku mati pada malam pernikahan antara dia dan kakakku. Kemudian, aku terlahir kembali, kembali ke masa sebelum aku diasingkan. Kali ini, aku memilih meninggalkan kelompok mafiaku dan meninggalkan pria yang dulu begitu kucintai. Namun pria itu? Bos mafia yang dingin dan tak berhati itu? Dia benar-benar hancur.

My husband is the Don of the entire New York East Coast Mafia. For ten years, I dimmed my own light to be his perfect silent partner, the dutiful wife who gave him the perfect heir. I thought we were the lovers who wou ld die for each other. Then came a mere associat. My husband and son had formed an alliance with the woman who seem want to take my place. But they just said, "Elena, you have the crown and the kingdom. She has nothing but us. Be generous." So, to make her smile, my husband trampled on my dignity again and again. To please her, my son affectionately calls her "Mom." In their eyes, I was the iron wall, the woman who would swallow any insult for the sake of the family honor. Until the fire. My husband locked me inside the burning room, to let me "reflect" on my jealousy. He didn't know that the fire didn't kill me. But it burned away the last ash of my love for him.

I stretched lazily on the bed, much like a contented kitten, before opening my eyes. Hovering above me was a face that could have been sculpted by the gods—a handsome, well-defined face with sun-kissed golden eyes. My first groggy thought was that Cara had finally brought home a decent, well-groomed man for a change. But…. Why is he in my room? I abruptly shoved him away, ending the spell. "Get off your asshole!" With a scowl on my face, I got up quickly. “Was personal space not mentioned by Clara, huh?” I spoke in an irritated tone. “Clara?” He turned and casually picked up some papers from a nearby table, settling down with an annoying smile. “And who might that be, if I may ask?” He doesn’t even remember her? Asshole “Well, if you must know, Clara—” I started, but my words faltered as something shiny caught my eye. What is..? Then my memories began to flood back. —it’s a damn golden sofa. Shit. Brain Freeze. ~~~ Growing up as the oldest kid on a Chicago farm was no picnic for Mary Johnson. Her folks, good ol' Mr. and Mrs. Becky Johnson, were salt-of-the-earth types, who worked hard on their small farm not far from the gritty backstreets of Chicago. They taught Mary and her siblings the value of hard work, self-value. But as much as Mary loved her family, she dreamed big, but those dreams took a backseat when she needed to step up and help support her family. Then, out of the blue, fate threw her a curveball. A chance in the US came knocking, and Mary didn't hesitate. And then she crossed paths with the Blacks – New York’s high society, dripping with wealth and power, who offered her a deal she couldn’t refuse.

Elizabeth loved romance novels. It was her escape and comfort. One of the things she loved about it were the second male leads. She loved the tragic and kind heroes with their unrequited love for the female protagonists. After dying from an unexpected accident she was transmigrated into the book she was currently reading. Now she is the daughter of her beloved second male lead. She vowed that she will help the SML to find love again. Meanwhile Alphonse Monroe the second male lead woke up and he went back to the past.He realized that he was blinded by the fake white lotus female protagonist. After dying he has another chance to prevent many tragedies in his life. No longer blinded by the female protagonist he vowed to protect his family. Both with new missions in life. The father wants to protect and treasure his second life. While his daughter vowed to find a new love for her father. "Daddy what about her?" She pointed " I think she is perfect to be my new mother" "Auntie can you be my mom?" This is the story of Elizabeth now Lilian Monroe, her twin brother Alec Monroe, and their father the beloved second male lead Alphonse Monroe who just wants to bond with his new found children. original story by Maria Gatchalian cover art by dsby_audrey

Samantha Laire Madrigal always resembles Maria Clara as what others told her so. Not until she met Tyrone Madrigal. The man who captivated Samantha. The simple crush she felt towards him later on became desperate love that pushed her to do such pathetic moves just so she would be noticed. Not until that night, when Samantha thought everything will be on favor with her, but turnsed out becoming her greatest nightmare that she wanted to forget. Marrying Tyrone Madrigal.

Shotgun marriage usually happens when there is an unintended pregnancy resulting in marriage in a hurry or enforced but... not in my case. "Desmond Cro'esnt, do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?" I looked straight into Desmond's eyes. They are raven black and it does match his long, wavy black hair. "I do," he answered as he smiled innocently at me. Making himself look promising. Then, the priest turned to me. "Neiva Ariella Hillstone, do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?" I still can't believe that I'm going to marry this man. He looks happy, waiting for my answer. His white suit is making him look even kinder. The only witness we have here is the priest and his men in black suits, currently pointing a gun right into my head. "Time is running, Neiva. It's either you marry me or you die." His innocent smile turned into a devilish one. This suits him more because this is the real him. And that answered your question. My shotgun marriage happened to be the literal meaning of it. I closed my eyes and deeply breathed before answering, "I do." "You're mine now." He pulled me by my waist and pressed his lips against mine. I am now officially the wife of this Psychopath Billionaire Mafia Boss.

Grace is a horny house wife. All her husband looks for is money to take care of his family. He ignores his physical appearance and marital obligation. The wife is taken up by their shamba boy. She can't be sexually satisfied by the husband any more. It's always the shamba boy...does this escapade with the shamba boy last?