Media-upper Providence Library Mga Nobela at Kwento

On the first day of every month, my mom will give me my allowance based on the number of times I had checked in with her last month. "You'll receive 20 dollars for greeting your parents once in the morning and once in the evening. But last month, you only hit ten days' worth of quota, so you can only receive 200 dollars. This also means your 300-dollar punctuality fee will be deducted as well. "After adding on 150 dollars for your basic necessities, you shall receive only 350 dollars for this month's allowance. Remember to write a reflection report on your lack of punctuality later. I'll only transfer you the money if your report is acceptable." I become so overwhelmed by anxiety that my voice starts trembling. "I was busy with my finals last month, Mom! I had to line up outside the library at 5:00 am every day just so I could secure myself a seat! That's why I couldn't call you in time!" In a choked-up tone, I plead to my mom, "I need 600 dollars for the train ticket all the way home during the holidays! 350 dollars really isn't enough for me! Mom, can you please—" But my mom cuts me off firmly, "The allowance system is something that I've specifically designed for you so that I can help you get rid of the bad habit of wanting to receive everything without putting in hard work! Why can't you just understand that I'm doing this for your own good?" After that, she ends the call mercilessly. Just as I'm filled with despair and helplessness, a blond appears before my eyes. He's willing to buy my train ticket for me, but in return, I need to leave with him.

“If you’re going to dig your nails into my back to make him watch, sweetheart, at least do it right. Make him think I’m actually tearing you apart.” The Plan: Fake-date the university’s star hockey player to drive my cheating ex-boyfriend, Leon, completely out of his mind with jealousy. It was supposed to be a simple, transactional arrangement. He needs a tutor to keep his GPA high enough to stay on the ice, and I need the ultimate weapon of mass distraction to get revenge on my ex and my backstabbing best friend. The Catch: I didn’t know the arrogant, tatted forward who practically rules the campus arena was him—Lael De La Fontaine. The exact same guy I mistakenly drenched with a bucket of ice water while he was caught in a scandalous hookup with our assistant coach. And the exact same guy who just sat down across from me at my mom’s official engagement dinner. When our parents happily announce their upcoming marriage, the smug, wicked grin on my new stepbrother's face tells me everything I need to know. He has absolutely no intention of letting me off the hook for ruining his shirt—or for discovering his darkest secret. If anything, he’s thrilled. Now, we’re sharing a house by weekend, a library table by afternoon, and a filthy, breathless lie by night. But between the bruising grips on my hips meant for the crowd and the venomous, needy promises he whispers in my ear during "study sessions," the lines of hatred are bleeding together. He’s supposed to be helping me play my ex. So why does it feel like the billionaire's son is rewriting the playbook just to keep me for himself?

On the eve of our wedding, I find out that the wedding invitations have Travis Somerson's and his assistant, Victoria Cademere's names printed on them instead of mine. I demand an answer from Victoria, who bursts into tears and tells me that she has accidentally mistyped the bride's name as hers. Travis calls me right away. "It's just a naming mistake, Harper! Must you make such a huge deal out of such a small mistake?" He even calls me a petty and jealous woman who can't even tolerate the presence of a female employee in his vicinity. Five minutes later, Victoria uploads another social media post. Apparently, not only has she uploaded a photo of the wedding invitation, but she also adds a couple photo of her and Travis being lovey-dovey. The caption reads, "Mr. Somerson told me that even if I screw up, he'll be there to help me settle everything." If a female employee were to provoke me in the past, I'd have forced Travis to fire the former. But this time, I no longer care about him anymore.

Protocol for Seduction By Daniel Ejemai In a city where data is more valuable than loyalty and desire is a currency of its own, Julian Vane controls everything—markets, media, and the invisible algorithms that predict human behavior before it happens. As the enigmatic CEO of Vane Industries, he has built an empire on surveillance and precision. Nothing surprises him. Nothing escapes him. Until Elara steps into his tower. Brilliant, defiant, and dangerously curious, Elara seeks access to classified files that could expose the true extent of Vane’s predictive policing system. Julian offers her a deal instead: thirty days under his rules—his proximity, his control, his world—in exchange for the information she wants. What begins as a calculated arrangement quickly ignites into something neither of them can fully command. Power shifts. Boundaries blur. Attraction becomes a weapon—and a weakness. As secrets surface and emotions intensify, Elara must decide whether she’s dismantling a tyrant… or surrendering to the only man capable of matching her fire. In a world wired for control, love may be the one variable no algorithm can predict.

Sasha Miller is the most brilliant private athletic chef in the business, but the elite world of professional hockey only sees her plus-size frame and assumes she does not belong. When billionaire hockey legacy and franchise captain Rhys Kendrick severely injures his knee, his controlling father hires Sasha to manage his strict recovery diet in total isolation at their private mountain compound. ​Rhys is furious. He views Sasha as a corporate spy sent by his father and treats her like the enemy. But when aggressive sports reporters surround his training compound, threatening to expose his injury and ruin his multi-million-dollar trade value, Rhys makes a desperate, rogue move. He tells the media that Sasha isn’t his chef—she’s his live-in fiancée. ​Trapped together for eight weeks in an isolated compound, the fake engagement forces them into close quarters. As Sasha battles Rhys’s elitist family and his initial hostility, the emotional tension boils over. Rhys quickly realizes that Sasha's brilliance is the only thing saving his career—and that his fake fiancée is the only real thing in his life.

Five years ago, Seraphina Vale’s life ended in front of a crowd. On her wedding day to billionaire CEO Cassian Thorne, she was publicly accused of corporate espionage, betrayal, and greed. Security dragged her out of the ceremony as cameras flashed and the media tore her reputation apart. The man she loved never gave her a chance to explain. What Cassian never knew was that Seraphina walked away carrying his child. Now, five years later, Seraphina has rebuilt her life from nothing. Stronger. Independent. Untouchable. But when fate brings her back into Cassian’s world, a shocking truth surfaces her son, Lucien, is the only biological heir to the powerful Thorne empire. The Thorne family demands the child. Seraphina refuses. The only solution Cassian offers is a contract: Live under his roof. Pretend to be his wife. Secure the heir’s future. But the past is full of lies, enemies are still watching, and the truth behind Seraphina’s downfall is far darker than either of them imagined. This time, the woman he once destroyed isn’t coming back to beg. She’s coming back to win.

I went viral, all for the wrong reasons. The world came down hard on me, all because I refused to approve my employee, Cassandra’s, maternity leave. Cassandra tore me apart online. “Why won’t you grant me maternity leave? “The government wants the birth rate to go up. Even if you’re the CEO, you can’t go against the law. “I get it. The low birth rate exists because heartless capitalists like you treat employees like nothing. “Fam, back me up here. Am I wrong to protect my unborn child? “I have a legal right to maternity leave.” With her words striking a chord with the young generation, the livestream became a viral sensation. Many spammed the company’s social media to criticise me. There were memes of me as a funeral portrait everywhere. Some even mailed wreaths to the office. The board ordered me to apologize live. I plugged into Cassandra’s stream and looked at her calmly. “I’m sorry, but I still can’t approve your leave.”

At twenty-eight, I held the dubious honor of being the last unmarried socialite on New York's Upper East Side. Everyone around me was growing increasingly anxious about my single status. In my previous life, my mother arranged a matchmaking cocktail party, where I was told to choose a husband from ten handpicked elite bachelors. I bribed the event planner to place Mark West's profile at the very top—and as I had hoped, I chose him. After we married, Mark treated me with what seemed like tender affection. He even bought me an oceanfront villa in the Hamptons, making me believe I had finally found true love. But that illusion shattered the day I was nine months pregnant, just hours away from giving birth. Mark drove a scalpel straight into my abdomen—then, right in front of me, hurled our newborn onto the floor. "If you hadn't forced me into this marriage with your family's power, Sofia wouldn't have been heartbroken enough to go drinking and get drugged and assaulted. This… this is what you owe her!" He tossed the scalpel aside, then calmly let his private doctor pin down my blood-soaked body. I fought through excruciating pain for six agonizing hours, until I finally bled to death. Afterward, Mark dumped my corpse into the Hudson River. But for Sofia, he hosted a grand funeral—funded with my money, under my name—and paraded himself to the world as a grieving, devoted widower. Given a second chance at life, I refused to step foot in that cursed matchmaking event. Instead, I went straight to my mother with a demand: marry me to Robert Black—the most ruthless, cold-blooded titan of Wall Street, whose scarred face was feared by all. In the end, stripped of my financial backing, Mark's hedge fund collapsed. He became a disgraced fraudster, spat on by everyone on Wall Street.

I had been married to Natasha Bates for ten years, and not once did she ever join me for our family's Independence Day cookout. This year, on the night before the celebration, I finally gathered the courage to ask if she wanted to come. She scoffed and said, "What are you, stuck in the past? Who even celebrates the Fourth with a family dinner anymore?" Yet that very evening, I saw a social media post of Natasha with her male best friend, Stanley Rogers. They were quite intimate in the picture, and the caption read: [True happiness is celebrating Independence Day with your bestie!] I commented back: [Hope you two lovebirds make it official soon.] Stanley did not hold back. He messaged me a bunch of intimate photos of the two of them. Then, he added, [You're just a leech living off his wife. What right do you have to question anything about Nattie?] Everyone always thought I was a gold-digger living off Natasha's success. However, they all forgot that I was the sole major shareholder of the company. This time, I’m done staying silent.

When Edna Crossby ditches the marriage registration for the fifth time, I block her contact number and social media accounts on the spot. If she's in any of the social gatherings, I turn down the invitations right away. I'd rather take the long route than walk past the cafe Edna frequents. If she attends a team-building session, I take the day off without hesitation. Even when Edna shows up on my doorstep with gifts in hand on Christmas Eve, I pretend that I'm not home at all. I don't answer any calls from her. I don't respond to texts she sends me. Just like that, I completely fade away from Edna's world. In the past, Edna used to be the focus of my life. My emotions fluctuated all the time because of her. When Edna flakes out on me for the fifth time, I finally snap out of my lovesick stupor. I don't want to live life like this anymore. Rather than getting abandoned time and again, I might as well live my life on my own happily.