Memento Note Novels & Stories

"Haven't I warned you not to test me princess??" He asked angrily as he brought his face closer to mine. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do. I'm not your property!!" I screamed angrily at his face as I tried to release his hold on my wrist. He gripped me harder and pushed me towards his chest as he held my waist with his free hand. I signed in ecstasy as I caught a whiff of his manly cologne. "Really??" His husky voice brought be out of my dreamland. "Let's see then!" He muttered before forcefully pressing his warm lips on mine. ************** Selina Cortez is a twenty-four year old and poor orphan who had big hopes and dreams of being a very successful fashion designer. She was nice to people who show her kindness but wouldn't let anyone harrass or bully her. She looked innocent but has the heart of a warrior. Her dreams were cut short when she crossed path with Damian Black, a very powerful mafia lord who was known for his cold and brutal nature. Not knowing who he is, she was disgusted at his behaviour but on the other hand, she amused him. After their first meeting, he couldn't get his mind off her. He wanted her all to himself even though it meant taking her against her will. What happens when a Mafia lord falls in love with an ordinary girl? A war is bound to break out because the cold mafia finally has a weakness. Join me in this amazing ride filled with love, lust, revenge and betrayal. Note: This novel contains many R rated scenes like violence and smut. If you don't like this type of stories, don't bother starting it.

My name is Maya Chen, and I have seven months to stop being the only single senior at Lincoln High. Everyone else posts prom dates, couple hoodies, and first kiss stories. I post nothing. I watch from the sidelines while my friends plan futures in pairs and my mom asks when I will bring someone home. So I make a rule. Get a boyfriend before 18. No exceptions. I build a plan to survive the pressure. Date smart. Date safe. Date anyone who checks the boxes and gets me to my birthday without shame. The plan falls apart the second Cole Evans shows up. He is my brother’s best friend, holds a detention record that scares teachers, and wears a smirk that mocks every rule I wrote. He was never my type. He drives a rusted truck, smells like gasoline, and calls out my bad taste in boys. But he also finds me crying in the bathroom at Homecoming, teaches me to drive stick at midnight, and looks at me like I am not a task to finish. Now I am 18, my plan is broken, and the whole school saw me kiss the guy I swore I would never want. I thought I needed a boyfriend to fix my life. I need him. CHARACTERIZATIONS MAYA CHEN Role: Female Lead Appearance: Straight black hair she cuts herself, small scar on her eyebrow, lives in oversized hoodies and worn Converse. Aim: To stop being the only single person in her friend group before she turns 18. Personality: Sarcastic, organized, loyal, hides insecurity behind a planner. Flaw: Ties worth to relationship status because of peer pressure. Special Note: Uses control and rules to avoid feeling left behind. Hidden Truth: Believes if she does not get a boyfriend now, she never will

“Give me one reason, Liv.” He stalked toward me, cornering me against the edge of the desk. “One good reason why I shouldn’t bend you over this desk and f*ck you senseless.” My breath caught. “This is wrong, Damon. So wrong.” I pressed my palms flat against his chest, trying to create space. “You’re my brother-in-law…” “Not yet, love,” he whispered, fingers curling around my waist possessively. “You’re still engaged to him, but the man you’ll be getting married to…” Two fingers slipped into my heat, making me gasp. “…is me.” I should’ve walked away. I should’ve resisted. But I couldn't forget what it felt like to be his. * Olivia have the perfect life. The perfect fiancé. Marcus is everything she thought she wanted—sweet, charming, dependable. Safe. She thought she have it all figured out... Until the night of her engagement party, when she comes face-to-face with Damon—her ex. The man who had broken, damaged and left her for ruin, three years ago. The man she’s about to call brother-in-law. Now, old wounds rip open. Feelings she thought she buried, clawed their way back to the surface. And the man she once loved? He isn’t asking this time. Damon wants her back. And he’ll burn every bridge, including the one with his own brother—to make her his again. NOTE TO READERS: This is a dark, emotional, and scorching hot love story. It features a possessive anti-hero, messy family drama, emotional trauma, and morally gray decisions. If you’re looking for a soft romance with flowers and sunshine, this might not be it. But if you crave forbidden passion, flawed characters, and a love story that burns through betrayal and pains… Welcome to Olivia and Damon’s world.

*** “Get back here Bella. Do not even try because you can't get away from me, and do not let me catch you myself.” “I don't want to have anything to do with you," she retorted angrily. “Oh, sweetheart, that is totally on you. Do you know how long I have been invested in you?” “You kidnapped me and brought me here. I don't want to be here and I'm not letting you touch me," her voice was so strong. He loved her challenge: it only made him harder. "Me touching you is definitely happening. You absolutely can't resist it for too long: you can only enjoy it now,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. With that, he quickly ran around the kitchen counter and caught her. “Got you… You can't run away from me Bella; no matter how hard you try I will always find you. “Let me go… now,” she shouted. “Not when I'm still breathing baby, you will love every single thing I do to you” he carried her over his shoulder to the bedroom… At a young age, Mirabella Antonio lost everything. Her parents died suddenly in a car crash. They died with a debt tagged to their names. A year later, her older brother, David was murdered in cold blood, trying to keep her safe and pay off the debt their parents owed. And the man at the center of it all was Hunter Groves. Four years later, he saw her again. He wants her. And Hunter doesn’t ask. He only takes. She opposed him in every way possible but he took her in every way possible. He is determined to imprint himself on her body and soul and that he did. Note; Dark romance; Male lead is a totally obsessed psychopath. ***Trigger warnings***

Author's Note The book is slow burn, feelings took time to be accepted and noticed. Trigger Warnings This book contains sexual harassment, bullying and trauma. …………………………………….. "Right there, fuck, Jordan, don't stop," Aiden panted when I broke the kiss for air. His nails dug into my shoulders, leaving red trails down my back as I drove into him relentlessly. I reached between us and wrapped my hand around his leaking cock, stroking him in time with my thrusts, firm, twisting pulls from root to tip, thumb swiping over the sensitive head to spread his precum. His balls drew up tight, and I knew he was close. So was I. The pressure built at the base of my spine, my own cock swelling even thicker inside him. I pounded into him faster, the wet sounds of our fucking growing louder, more frantic. Every thrust jolted his body, his hole gripping me like a fist. I leaned in closer, biting down gently on the junction of his neck and shoulder as I felt my orgasm crest. "Come for me, Aiden," I growled against his skin, stroking him faster. "Let me feel you." …….. Aiden was an ordinary human who was living life as it was until one day his life changed and he was invited into Aetherhold Academy for powerful people. Being the only human in a school full with supernatural beings made life a little bit hard, however he had his three protectors fighting for him. What happens when Aiden finds out that he wasn’t a human, he was a powerful Omega who could get pregnant and the reason why he has been constantly harassed was because he has been releasing a powerful mating pheromone? What happens when his three powerful Alpha protectors take a liking to him?

On my wedding day, Matteo Castello's younger adopted sister, Gisella Castello, delivers me a wedding gift consisting of a worn condom. There's a note pressed underneath said condom. "Lucia, I've already tested Matteo for you. He's really good in bed." I lose my mind on the spot. That night, I sleep with three of Matteo's friends, and I make sure to leave hickeys all over my body. The next morning, Matteo kicks open my room door. Soon, a few sacks are tossed into my room, courtesy of his subordinates. The men whom I've slept with the night before are the ones contained in those sacks. Shocked beyond my wits, I let out a blood-curdling scream. I can barely feel my limbs as I scramble away from those sacks. But Matteo reaches out to grip me by the chin and lift my head forcefully. "What are you afraid of? They were already plotting behind my back. I was worried that I might not be able to deal with them without a proper excuse. What I didn't expect is that you, my dear wife, are sweet and understanding enough to give me a reason for doing so." My head buzzes loudly at that moment. I can feel my blood running cold in my veins. Finally, I realize that this is just a trap that Matteo has set up for me. That's when I completely break down. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I do my best to flee from my room, only to get thrown into the punishment chamber in the end. What he doesn't know is that I'm already pregnant at that time. One year later, the punishment chamber's door is finally opened. Sunlight is cast onto my pale face. Everyone tells me that Matteo is here to take me home. Instead of saying anything, I take my phone and head over to a secluded corner, where I place a phone call. "I got released, Mr. Lombardi. Let's meet up."

He almost never texts me first, and in person he barely says a word. In three years together, he's never remembered a single anniversary, and he's never once suggested we celebrate a holiday. But the second I message him first, he lights up, all "baby" this and "baby" that, fussing over me, coaxing me to sleep. Sometimes I'd get this strange feeling that there were two different Noahs. His explanation was that he was just bad with words face-to-face, and that texting or voice notes felt like less pressure. I kept telling myself that being together meant meeting each other halfway. He was quiet and reserved, so I'd be the one to reach out. He forgot anniversaries, so I booked the restaurant and reminded him to keep the night free. He had no time to schedule our engagement shoot, so I handled the whole thing with the studio myself. He was too busy with work to help us move, so I packed everything alone, booked the movers, and got it all done. When I was so worn out I was about to break, I'd send him a voice note, and he'd say, "I'm so sorry, baby. The lab was insane today. I couldn't be there for you, and it kills me to watch you run yourself into the ground." Hearing how guilty he sounded, all my hurt just melted away. And that's how I carried three years of this relationship on my own, running on the flawless tenderness he only ever gave me online. Until today, when I found a program on his laptop called Boyfriend Assistant. It analyzed every message I sent and generated the perfect reply, the perfect response, every single time. Cold snap? It sent: Bundle up, baby. Time of the month? It pinged an API and auto-ordered hot chocolate to my door. All those late nights he spent "working," the gentle voice notes that lulled me to sleep, every one of them was synthesized in Noah's voice. For three years, the person who'd been there for me, day and night, was never Noah at all. For three years, I'd been performing a one-woman show.

Since my bone cancer is already terminal, my doctor asks me if I wish to receive an amputation. My breath is lodged in my throat. After hesitating for a few moments, I end up texting my husband, Jordan Parker. "If I undergo the amputation surgery, I'll get to live for another year. Do you want me to take up the surgery?" One minute before I'm scheduled to undergo the surgery, my phone finally buzzes. "Best wishes." It's the same response as the one I've been receiving for every message I've sent him over the past three years. Of course, Jordan has responded by transferring me money and a note that says "best wishes". I put down my phone quietly. Ever since I've borrowed 500 thousand dollars from him on our wedding night, Jordan has already determined that I'm a gold digger, just like what his friends have been saying about me. That's why Jordan transfers me money when I go through a miscarriage. When I beg him to attend my dad's funeral, he gives me money as well. Half a year ago, I'm diagnosed with bone cancer. The thought about having to live my life with tubes inserted into various parts of my body while lying on my sick bed and waiting for Death to grace me with its presence in the near future triggers a mental breakdown immediately. With tears rolling down my cheeks, I send 97 long audio messages to Jordan. In return, I've received 97 money transfers. Now, I'm about to get amputated just so I can extend my life span, and here Jordan is, fusing beads with his childhood sweetheart, Camille Laurent. As I stare at Camille's romantic social media post and the barrage of comments that wish her and Jordan well, I pluck out the needle with a bitter smile on my face. There is once when Jordan has told me in a tone filled with hatred and resentment that his biggest regret is his decision to call off his engagement with Camille over a gold digger like me. Well, I hope that this time, he won't have any regrets anymore.

When Dexter Welch, a security guard who works in the residential area, sees me driving my pink Toyota Corolla everywhere, he's very certain that I'm a sugar baby who's being backed by her own sugar daddy. On the first day, I see one word getting carved into the car hood. It says "bitch". I merely give the hood a wipedown without uttering a word. Later on, I swap out the current SD card of my dashcam to an SD card that has a 512 GB memory. On the second day, my car windows get smashed in. When I go over to the property management office to check the security footage, the front desk agent tells me that the security camera overseeing my car "happens" to be broken. Dexter leans against the desk with a grin on his face. "If that car of yours is ruined, then so be it. Tell your sugar daddy to buy you another one." I crouch down and take a picture of the damage. Then, I save it into a folder called "evidence" in my phone. On the third day, two of my tires have gone flat. When I bend down to pick up a spare tire, Dexter hugs me from behind all of a sudden. He murmurs into my ear, "What's so good about sleeping with an old codger? Why don't you date me instead? I'm young and strong—" That's when I grab a wrench and smash it right into his arm. As Dexter nurses his injured arm, he glares at me. "How dare you lay a finger on me! Go ahead and lodge a report, then! My uncle's the property manager here! What can you do about me, hmm?" I silently note down Dexter's work ID without saying anything. On the fourth day, I drive another pink car back to the apartment. As soon as Dexter notices the flash of pink in its usual parking slot, he smiles as he exits the guardhouse. Then, he pulls out a key from his pocket and scratches my car with all his strength. An older gentleman who happens to be walking his dog nearby freezes in his tracks. He sounds so startled that his voice actually cracks. "Have you gone nuts? Do you know the model of the car you've just scratched? That's a top-tier Rolls-Royce!"

I was nine months pregnant when the Wolf Council sent a resource report to the Luna’s quarters. It listed my mate’s monthly distributions. For two years straight, my husband—the pack’s Alpha—had been secretly providing the same female wolf with territory access, protection, and supplies. Without missing a single month. The first record dated back to two years ago. The same month I lost my first pup. A notification appeared—A contact request. The note read: “A woman kept by an Alpha.” I was strangely calm, one hand rested on my swollen belly as I accepted. She messaged immediately. “You saw the report, didn’t you?” I didn’t reply, I opened her feed instead. The earliest post was dated April 21st, two years ago. A female wolf leaned against an Alpha’s chest. His face was cropped out—but the mark on his shoulder was clear. I recognized it instantly. My mate’s Alpha mark. The caption read: “Thank you for choosing me on my coming-of-age night.” April 21st. That was the night I lay bleeding in the healing room, losing my unborn pup. He had told me he was away on pack business. I kept scrolling. She trained freely in Alpha-only areas. Used resources reserved for the Luna. Was guarded as if she already belonged at his side. Every post carried the same message: He chose her. Pinned at the top was a medical report—She was pregnant—With the Alpha’s pup. I put the device down and returned to our bedroom. Then I received it—Photos. Videos. She sent them to me on purpose— to flaunt that the love I had once been so proud of had already rotted beyond repair. I sat down slowly, my pup shifting inside me, pain spreading through my chest. Only then did I understand—He had betrayed me completely. This kind of love—I don’t want it. This pack—I won’t stay in it. When my pup is born, I will leave—And I will take his heir with me. Let the Alpha search every territory, scour every border, tear the pack apart in regret— he will never find us.