Maybe Right Person Wrong Timing の小説・ストーリー

A villain is gone, but new ones always arise, waiting for the right moment to strike. She died in a way no one had ever expected or could ever have imagined. But, she left something behind. Something precious which miraculously ended in my arms. In my care. And as life continued to move on without her, I grew to realize something. Every human’s heart is twisted deep within and broken, as they wait for the right person to heal them, or the wrong person to break them more. This is me, Adira. And this time, it isn't only my story. **** Book 1: Heart of a Betrayed Wife.

Candice had been by Alex’s side since she was eighteen, evolving from just a partner to something more. Power and wealth gave her confidence, which got her thinking she was one of a kind in his heart. However, Alex hired a new secretarial intern, Sonia, who was youthful, naive, and charming. Despite her innocent look, Candice felt threatened; not because of what Sonia might do, but because Sonia reminded her of her younger self, of when she first met Alex.

(Fourth book in the Her Wolves series) Teagan van der Merwe knew at least one thing in this life, you couldn't trust anyone. Not even your own flesh and blood. Exiled from her pack at the tender age of nineteen by her parents, all because she loved the wrong person. Harland. Her mate. They were cast out. Left to fend for themselves. As if they had any say in who the goddess chose for them. Mates were forever, another lesson she had learned. Harland was the only one who saw her for her. Now, nine years later, she was forced to go back to that hell hole of a place. Forced to face the demons she had left behind. Alone. What she comes to discover would shake her to the very core. Teagan would find a second mate. The last person on this earth she had ever thought would be hers. Bellamy Johanness. The heir of Desert Sun. And the man she had been betrothed to. *** “For you? For you I would slaughter them all. Every last person that has ever made you cry. I would burn this world to the fucking ground if it meant you were happy. Maybe I am exactly the kind of person you thought I was. But maybe, just maybe, that’s the kind of person you need in your corner,” His fingertips reached out and brushed a strand of hair out of my face. Beheld me with crystal clear vision. Saw through me. “Fuck all of them. So long as I have you.” I couldn’t stop myself. Felt my body moving forward, all on its own. The distance between us closed. Our eyes remained locked on each other. Everything stopped. Then his lips touched mine and everything fell right into place.

“Who the hell changed the screw tolerance by 0.007 mm?” “I did. Is there a problem?” Kimmy Zabel, our department’s “good-luck charm” and full-time slacktivist, did not even look up from her compact mirror, where she was carefully applying lip gloss. “It just didn’t look right, so I tweaked it. Do you really have to yell at me?” The production line had been running on the wrong spec for twenty-four hours. I hit the emergency stop. Keeping my voice steady took some effort. “These parts no longer meet export standards. If we miss tomorrow’s shipment, even a month of overtime wouldn’t cover the penalties.” “It’s one tiny number. You’re being so dramatic!” Kimmy snapped her makeup case shut. “Anyway, it’s New Year’s Eve. I’ve got a date. I’m not staying here to suffer with you people.” Before she even reached the door, I gestured to the staff to pull the shutters down. “For precision components like these, one number translates into a million-dollar loss. You can take these defective units and explain them to the regulators.”

After finishing work for the day, I checked my phone and realized I had been added to a group chat called "Catch the Thief." The members were my parents, my brother, Brian Wise, and my sister-in-law, Paulene Wise. I typed a question mark. Paulene replied instantly. [My jewelry is missing. I didn't add you here to accuse you or anything. I just wanted to ask what you think. Honestly, there's no use for other people in our family to take my jewelry, so I've been wondering... I'm not saying you definitely stole it. But if you did, you don't have to deny it. I'm willing to give you a chance to make things right.] My mother said nothing. She just kept tagging me over and over. I let out a small laugh and typed back. [Maybe Brian took it and gave it to his side piece. I'm not saying he definitely has someone else. Just that men his age sometimes start looking around. I'm only guessing here. And if he really did mess up, you could give him a chance to make things right, too.]

Campus food deliveries vanished so often that no one even commented anymore. Then it happened to me again and again. I never identified the thief, but by New Year's Eve I was finished with being an easy mark. I set out a bowl of soup as bait and soaked it with water wrung from an old bathroom mop. I meant to make whoever stole it regret touching my food. A week later, the police did not come for the thief. They came for me. The counselor slid a penalty notice across his desk—600 dollars for food costs and medical fees, due next week. The person who ate my food had been hospitalized for "poisoning." The school was already discussing a major demerit, the cancellation of my first-class scholarship, and the loss of my needs-based stipend. That stipend was the money keeping my sick mother alive. They planned to pin everything on me, shield the real culprit, and bury me under paperwork. Unfortunately for them, they chose the wrong target. I was the law department's resident argument addict, and I intended to turn their dirty little mediation into a public collapse.

The novel consists of several mini-stories about therapy sessions at a therapy clinic named "Soulmate", but the letters "m-a-t-e" were broken in a storm. Each mini-story is narrated by both the psychologists and the patients, describe the patients' worldview, why they do what seems "mentally ill" to us. We often say that the patients' head is abnormal, that their way of thinking is so weird. But is there any possibility that it's because they received different (whether right or wrong) information, so they react differently? Is that just because we "normal people" haven't got enough understanding about this world? Throughout the story, we could see that therapy sessions are a two-way arrow. While the experts are affecting the patient, the patient is also influencing them,“When you look deeply into the darkness, the deep darkness is also looking into you". The story does not make any conclusion about who is right or which world is real, maybe all of them are real, maybe they are all virtual, or maybe, it all doesn't matter. Isn't the world where we live? Wherever you live, that's your world.

With one mistake, Princess Carlott lost everything in the blink of an eye. When she was labeled a fraud, a rogue— a pariah, she escaped her dysfunctional past to where no one would judge her. For years, she has built herself as Carly Storm. No more foolish mistakes, just her uneventful, boring life. Until she stumbles with a grumpy irresistible CEO, Rome Langston—well, not exactly, he’s her boss, and one thing she can’t ignore is full of fireworks between them. She isn’t looking for a hookup. When her boss offers her that proves impossible to resist, maybe that’s all she needs—no commitment, just amazing weekends. After all, she was once a rogue. What can go wrong? Well, that’s precisely what happens. Her past doesn’t just stay where it is, and her secrets threaten to come out. *** Rome just takes over the family business. Until the brunette storms into his office, reporting late as his assistant, complicating everything he believes in. He finds himself torn between hiring or firing her. The last thing he wants is a distraction. But maybe, a distraction is all he needs. What can go wrong with a bit of fun? Besides, he’s just human. When he finally realizes they have something real, just right when a bomb blows in his face, it’s anti-climatic. Worse, the woman he’s in love with is only a royal princess.

"Anya, I poured my heart and soul into that song three years ago. How could you accuse me of plagiarism?" On a variety show, the fake heiress broke down in tears. Without hesitation, I pulled out the music copyright certificate I had registered five years earlier. "Maybe learn a little law first. You're already infringing on my rights, Wendy."

On her first day at work, a new colleague uploaded a 500-million-dollar property purchase agreement to the company group chat. The message was accompanied by the caption: “Thanks for the gift for my first day at work, Dad!” She quickly deleted it, following up with, “Sorry, wrong chat!” I frowned, recognizing the contract immediately. It was the same property my father gifted me for my birthday a month ago. Some sharp-eyed colleagues noticed the contract number and chimed in. “I have a relative in real estate. I remember this property. Our chairman bought it recently!” “So, the heiress has joined us to experience life. Forgive your humble servant for not recognizing you!” The chat was soon filled with flattering remarks. Even my stingy and miserly husband joined in. I felt a coldness in my heart and couldn’t help but respond in the group chat, “I recall the president always opposing ostentatious displays of wealth and advocating humility. This heiress seems to veer away from his usual philosophy.” Instead of support, I faced attacks from my husband and others. “Look at you being so poor and petty. How could you ever compare to Grace? Why did I ever marry someone so shortsighted?” “As if you know the president that well! I think you’re just jealous that Grace was born with a silver spoon!” I sneered coldly and, without hesitation, dialed the president’s number right in front of everyone. “Dad, I heard we’re not that close, hmm?”