Marvel Comic Suitcase

Award-winning actress Jennifer Shaw was convinced I had deliberately tipped off the paparazzi about our relationship, hoping to use the exposure to pressure her into marriage. She grabbed my chin and splashed scalding water across my face. "You're no different from all those men clawing their way to the top. "You want fame? Fine. I'll make you famous. Famous enough that you won't dare show your face again." Within days, I was blacklisted online. With a burned face and a crippled right hand, I was thrown out of her villa on a night of pouring rain. That same evening, she walked the red carpet arm in arm with a rising young star, soaking in the thunderous applause. I dragged my suitcase down the deserted road and disappeared into the rain. Four years later, we crossed paths again on a parenting reality show. She watched as I stepped onto the stage as an ordinary guest, a little girl beside me who openly rolled her eyes at her. Her eyes reddened as she moved to block my way. "Where did you get that child?" she demanded. "What are you trying to do?"

After a shattering breakup, Ava Dawson flees Arizona with nothing but a suitcase and a dream of starting over. A flight delay leads her to Ethan Hart-a, a charming stranger with gentle eyes and quiet scars. It is a near accident that binds them, and a sunset kiss in San Francisco has Ava believing love can bloom twice. But Ethan is not just a warm stranger, he's the billionaire CEO of HartTech, a man whose life is circled by paparazzi, power, and people who want to use him. When ambitious and Vindictive ex-fiancée Serena Vale returns to claim what she feels is rightfully hers, Ava finds herself the target of a web of deceit, manipulation, and sabotage. Ethan's trust is shaken, Ava's confidence crumbles, and their new love is about to face the ultimate test of forces that will stop at nothing to tear them asunder. Ava must choose: fight for a love she's only just found… Or walk away before she is destroyed by a world she was never prepared for. A tale of love, betrayal, courage, and destiny, "The Girl Who Loves Sunsets" is a heart-stopping romance full of passion, suspense, and that one truth that always prevails: Love conquers all; well, only if you fight for it.

I turned out not to be the biological daughter of a wealthy family. In my previous life, I had believed my best friend Vicky’s words and had stormed out on the day the real daughter, Lydia, returned. I never expected my biological father to fall ill with a chronic ailment that drained every bit of the family’s savings. I had nowhere to turn, and I worked day and night until I collapsed while delivering food in the middle of the night. Vicky became close to Lydia, and she used the chance to approach Peter, her brother, so that she could marry into a wealthy family. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the day I had run away. My foster parents looked at me with worry, and Peter stood with his arms crossed. “You know your biological parents are so broke they can’t even afford food, so are you sure you want to go back and suffer?” In my previous life, they had pleaded with me, and all I had in my head had been Vicky’s manipulation. I had thrown out the words, “I don’t need your filthy money,” and walked away. I set my suitcase down without hesitation this time. I would never leave before I saved enough money.

The day before our wedding, Luke Murray got wasted. On the ride home, he looked right at me and slurred, "Cassie, don't bring the kid to the ceremony. Arya can't know I'm the dad." I hit the brakes. Hard. He smacked into the seatback, halfway sobering up. When he finally realized it was me, he just... froze. Then he said real slow, "Guess you heard. Wedding's off—for now. Cassie doesn't want marriage, but the kid's mine, so I gotta step up. She's your bestie, right? You probably feel bad she's doing this alone. So once he's in school, I'll come back and marry you." I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "...That's fine. I don't mind." He didn't say a word when we got home—just grabbed his suitcase and left. I wiped the last tear off my face, sat on the bed, and just stared at nothing. Then my phone lit up. My childhood friend's voice cracked on the other end. "Arya, don't marry him. Please." I didn't say anything for a sec. "Okay."

Amidst the dimly lit room, the tension was palpable as Clyde's vice-like grip closed around Isabella's neck. She struggled to gasp for air, her defiance clear in her eyes. "You are no one for me, do you understand?" Clyde hissed, his fingers digging into her skin. Isabella, her voice trembling but unwavering, met his intense gaze. "And you are the most darkly comedic and nightmarish chapter of my life." Clyde, cruel laughter in his eyes, flung her onto the bed with a brutal force that left her breathless. "Then let's make this chapter even more nightmarish," he taunted, a twisted grin dancing upon his lips. The story takes an electrifying turn when Isabella, longing for a peaceful visit to her grandmother, finds herself back in her home country. However, fate has other plans as Isabella's suitcase, filled with her belongings, gets exchanged with Clyde's bag - full of illicit weapons. Clyde, a dangerous figure entangled in the criminal underworld, cannot allow Isabella to simply walk away after discovering the dangerous secrets within the swapped bag. As the noose tightens, he's left with a limited choices: kill her or hold her captive, forever altering the course of both their lives. Amidst this high-stakes power struggle, a relentless battle for survival and freedom unfolds, painting the pages of this thrilling tale with suspense and danger.

The whole wolf pack knew I was Alpha Nick’s fated mate—chosen by the Moon Goddess herself. But the second I stepped into Brown Pack territory with my suitcase in hand— His mother, Mrs. Johnson, ordered the maids to spray me with wolfsbane. His cousin, Enna, "accidentally" put me in *his* bedroom. And his childhood sweetheart, Rina, slapped a ten-million-dollar check in my face, demanding I publicly renounce this "joke of a mating bond." Even Alpha Nick himself—the ruthless legend of the pack—spent the first night wrapped around me like a damn octopus, only to kick me out coldly the next morning: *"Get out. Don’t come back to my room again."* When I was framed for theft, forced to work overtime till midnight, or locked inside a pitch-black office mid-panic attack… My *"fiancé"* was too busy grinding on Rina at some high-society ball. Then the truth about me dropped— Brown Pack’s elders dropped to their knees, trembling. Rina ripped her knockoff Luara gown in rage. And Alpha Nick, eyes bloodshot, pinned me against the wall: *"Wendy… you played me."* I smirked, peeling his fingers off me. *"Sorry, Alpha. The three-month contract’s up."* *"Now… call me by my real title—heir of White Moon Pack."*

Divorced and remarried—I've lost count of how many times Aaron and I stepped in and out of marriage. He once treated me like something precious, but less than a year after our wedding, he asked for our first divorce. The reason was simple, Vivian was coming back. "Vivian's a public figure," he told me. "I don't want anyone thinking she's involved with a married man." That third-tier actress had nothing but her father's sacrifice to her name. He had taken a bullet for Aaron—a life for a life. And because of that, Aaron believed he owed her everything. Every time Vivian returned to the country, Aaron divorced me. And every time she left, we remarried. The first time we split, I drowned my tears in whiskey and stumbled back to his house half-drunk. The lights inside were warm. He was with her. And I stood outside, shivering through the night. The second time, I tracked his every move—restaurants, auctions, charity galas—just to "accidentally" run into him again. Later, I learned better. The moment he mentioned divorce, I would quietly pack my suitcase and disappear from his mansion. My love and humiliation kept me trapped in that endless cycle of breaking up and coming back together. But this time, when Aaron waited for me at City Hall to remarry, I never showed up.

I was a wedding planner, and I personally designed my husband's wedding to his mistress. I had been with Victor for five years. Three of those years were swallowed by the pandemic. The remaining two were spent married, pregnant, and raising a child. The wedding I had always dreamed of existed only as "next time" whenever it came out of his mouth, until the day I received a new wedding planning request. The client was a young woman, her eyes curved with laughter, her smile bright and full of hope. "This is the venue my boyfriend chose himself," she said softly. "He insisted the wedding had to be held here." I took the file from her, and my gaze stopped on the venue name. The church in Clairmont. The very church I had mentioned to my husband countless times, the place I had dreamed of more than anything else. I was just about to smile and marvel at how someone in this world shared my taste so perfectly when the groom's name leapt into view. Victor Langford. My fingers froze on the page. Across from me, the girl was still wrapped in her happiness. She added gently, "We've only been together for two months, but he said he wants to give me the best wedding possible." I curved my lips into a smile and fixed my eyes on that familiar face—the man I had lived with for five years. After all this time, the day I planned Victor's wedding had finally arrived. Too bad the bride wasn't me.

As I head to see my boyfriend, Howard Schultz, who is working late, I get into a car accident. I call him dozens of times for help, but he doesn't answer a single one. Staring at his brightly lit office building not far away, I sink into despair. When I wake up in the hospital, I see a post from his subordinate. It's a picture showing the reflection of the two of them in the glass door, standing far closer than they should, with the caption, "What do I do when my boss is scolding me late at night?" Unwilling to believe it, I call him again. This time, he finally answers. My voice trembles. "Howard, I got into a car accident…" "Celine, I'm still working. I'll send my assistant to take care of it, okay? Be good. I'll see you after I come back from my business trip." I try to say more, but his angry shout suddenly cuts through the line. "Crystal Jennings! You're only allowed to bring one suitcase for this trip. Why do you have three? Do you think we're going on vacation?" Crystal Jennings—the new intern Howard just hired. I stare at the disconnected call, tears drying on my cheeks. I then call my parents instead. "I agree to the engagement you arranged."

The champagne was flat, much like the expression on Julian’s face. "It’s not that I don’t love you, Elara," he said, adjusting his $5,000 suit jacket. "It’s just that you’ve become... predictable. I need a woman who challenges the world, not someone who waits for me to come home and tell her what color the sky is." Elara felt the sting of the words more than the cold wind on the balcony. For six years, she had been Julian’s shadow. She had curated his life, managed his moods, and dimmed her own light so he could shine brighter. And now, on the night of his company’s gala, he was discarding her like an outdated software update. "Predictable?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Go home, Elara. I’ve already had your things moved to the guest house. We can talk about a settlement in the morning." She didn't wait for the morning. She didn't wait for the "settlement." She walked out into the rain, her silk dress clinging to her skin like a second, cold layer of grief. It wasn't until three days later, sitting in a dingy motel with nothing but a suitcase and a bruised soul, that the notification popped up on her phone. ARE YOU READY TO LIVE FOR YOURSELF? ENTER THE SURVIVAL GAME. WIN YOUR FREEDOM. Elara stared at the golden icon on the screen. It felt like a trap. Or maybe, it was the only way out.