Mha Death Arms

Ember Gilbert is a guarded and ambitious young girl with a strong will, a high school student with a rough past. Who lived through tough times, and did everything she could to live please everyone, but her love was broken when she found out her boyfriend's secret and came across Blaze who gave her an opening arms. Blaze is a young man who doesn't give any meaning to his life, he sleeps with any women he desires, but when he discovers he has feelings for Ember, it becomes a problem. Both hearts are broken, afraid to love again, what occurs when the sparks between them couldn't be resisted. This is a book, you wouldn't want to miss out.

One day, I come across a post on the Internet. The original poster keeps boasting about the fact that all three children belonging to his older brother are actually his spawn. "The funniest thing is, there was once when he suspected the origins of his children. So, he got someone to take the children to take a paternity test. "Guess who he ordered? That's right—it's me, his most trusted younger brother! I get to sleep with his wife whenever I want. The money he earns all goes to my sons. This means he's working for me for the rest of his life! "Just the thought of that makes me happy to no end! Ahahaha!" But the thing is, I'm the older brother who's mentioned in the post.

I died beneath the Ferris wheel. The killer took a photo of the Ferris wheel and sent it to my mother. 'Mom, I want to ride the Ferris wheel with you too,' wrote the killer. In my mother's voice message, her tone was filled with hatred as she replied, "How dare you ask to ride the Ferris wheel with me when you killed your own sister? Why won't you just die?!" As she wished, I was dead. However, what she didn't know was that the one who killed me was my so-called dead sister.

It started with a glance. A smirk. A touch that lingered too long. He’s the boy they warned me about—inked, broken, addicted to danger. My stepbrother. The walking sin who thrives off chaos and knows exactly how to make a good girl come undone. We were forced into this family. But I was the one who let him into my bed. My head. My heart. He tastes like trouble. Kisses like he owns my soul. And when he tells me I'm his—even if the world burns for it—I believe him. Because I didn't just fall for my stepbrother. I fell into the darkness with him. And now, I don’t want to find the light.

From first crush to wedding vows, George Capulet and I had been inseparable. But in our seventh year of marriage, he began an affair with his secretary. On my birthday, he took her on vacation. On our anniversary, he brought her to our home and made love to her in our bed... Heartbroken, I tricked him into signing divorce papers. George remained unconcerned, convinced I would never leave him. His deceptions continued until the day the divorce was finalized. I threw the papers in his face: "George Capulet, from this moment on, get out of my life!" Only then did panic flood his eyes as he begged me to stay. When his calls bombarded my phone later that night, it wasn't me who answered, but my new boyfriend Julian. "Don't you know," Julian chuckled into the receiver, "that a proper ex-boyfriend should be as quiet as the dead?" George seethed through gritted teeth: "Put her on the phone!" "I'm afraid that's impossible." Julian dropped a gentle kiss on my sleeping form nestled against him. "She's exhausted. She just fell asleep."

After I married Riccardo, the Don of the Moretti family, he paraded a string of mistresses in front of me. He never gave me a second glance. But on our tenth anniversary—right after my father’s death—he suddenly promised me half of his empire. The catch? In return, he planned to seize control of all my family’s arms-dealing routes. That pissed off his favorite mistress. She cornered him on his yacht, demanding he take his words back. Then she fell overboard and died. An “accident.” After she died, Riccardo went insane. He took it all out on me. He tied me to the back of his yacht. He dragged me through the sea, a human anchor, until the rocks shattered my legs, crippling me for life. I became the family’s shame. Then, as I lay helpless, he finished the job with poison. Then I opened my eyes. I was back on the day Angelo Marino—the head of our rival family—proposed to me. In my last life, my family forced me to say no. He came for me, a one-man army. He killed Riccardo, but died in the process. This time, I looked at his kind face and nodded. Yes. But as we embraced, Riccardo appeared. He ripped me from Angelo's arms and claimed me as his own. That’s when I realized the cruelest joke of all. My monster was back, too.

One night. One drink. One wrong turn. That’s all it took to lead Ashley Kingsley straight into the arms of the man who once shattered her life into pieces. Years later, her ex-husband Dante Montclair, heir to Montclair Group, returns to the country and they end up spending one unforgettable night together. The next morning, she vows to forget it ever happened. But Dante has other plans. When a family crisis puts Ashley in an impossible position, Dante makes her an offer: he’ll save the person she loves most, if she agrees to be his again. Torn between pride and survival, loyalty and love, Ashley must decide if this second chance is destiny… or the most dangerous mistake of her life.

In my previous life, my husband had suddenly died of a brain hemorrhage, leaving behind a massive mountain of debt. For the sake of my son, who was still in high school, I sold the house my parents had left me, gritted my teeth, and worked three jobs to pay off the debt. Overworked and exhausted, my health deteriorated, and I eventually collapsed in the hospital. From my bed, I could hear my son, now a graduate from a prestigious university, smiling as he spoke on the phone. "Hello? Dad, it's me. Yeah, she's about to die. I bought insurance for her, so we should get close to one million. You and Aunt Rena should come back home right away." The "Aunt Rena" he spoke of was none other than my husband's childhood friend and neighbor who had known him for years. It turned out that the debts were all part of a massive money-laundering scheme between my husband and his childhood sweetheart. They had fabricated false accounts to hide their crime, and he had faked his death to escape the law. My son, eager to become the heir to wealth, had stood by and watched me work myself to death. When I next opened my eyes, I was back in the moment of my husband's feigned brain hemorrhage, the day it had all begun.

I lost my dear son, Henry, to a traffic accident. He had been on his way to one of his part-time jobs. Despite working a lot, my son was still a top scorer on the SATs. “Mom, I don’t want treatment,” he begged with his last breath. “I just want Dad.” In my despair, I called Matthew Foster, my husband, more than one hundred times, but he never answered. We had been married for eighteen years, but one day, he spent all of our savings in order to pay for the treatment of his deceased comrade’s son. That got us into a debt worth one million dollars. To help him pay for it, both Henry I and worked hard to earn money. My son went as far as working five part-time jobs a day! That accident cracked his head open and tore his stomach. He was in urgent need of money for treatment. Since Matthew was not responding, I had to leave Henry’s side to rush to his workplace, where I ended up hearing that he was throwing a party for someone else’s son because he had gotten into a prestigious school. “Mr. Foster gave Zack a seaside mansion, a luxury car, and a limitless black card in hopes that he will succeed in his future studies and have a smooth and healthy life.” As I watched my “poor” husband hug his comrade’s widow and son, I called him for the 101st time. “Henry wants to see you one last time.” “I’m busy right now, Wendy. Be good with Henry and wait a little while longer.” When Matthew hung up impatiently, I put down my phone in silence. I whispered, “Matthew, Henry can no longer wait for you.” At that moment, I decided that I was not going to wait for him anymore either.

On the day I was kidnapped, my husband was looking after his sick sweetheart. I called him, asking him for help. Yet, he merely replied coldly, "Danica, you are a bad liar." After that, he heartlessly hung up the phone call on me, causing me to get brutally murdered by the kidnappers. I failed to show up as scheduled on the day we agreed to finalize our divorce. He called me in exasperation, only for the phone call to be answered by the police. "Mr. Ferguson, are you a family member of the deceased Danica Reed?"