Miraculous Ladybug Moth Novels & Stories

My sister, Anna Hawkins, and I are twins, but I'm slightly heavier than her when we were born. Anna has always been weak and sickly since young, whereas I'm always active and healthy. When Anna was four years old, she was diagnosed with leukemia. Mom blamed me for stealing Anna's nutrients when I got born, so I needed to return the nutrients to her. When I got my blood extracted for the first time, a thick syringe was used on me. I was so scared when I saw it. Mom told me not to be scared. She gave me a magical pen, stating that whatever wish I wrote down with the pen would come true. I wrote, "It won't hurt." When the syringe was plunged into my arm again, Mom bought me a sweet lollipop. The pain never struck me again afterward. When I was five years old, I drew a strawberry cake on the paper while getting 1000cc blood withdrawn from me. That week, Anna could sit up in bed and play on her own. When I turned seven years old, I wrote down my wish that I'd like to go on a vacation. The next day, I was sent into the operating theater for the doctors to collect my hematopoietic cells. For the first time ever, Anna's cheeks became rosy. When I was eight years old, I wrote that I wanted to become the top student of my grade. But a day before my exams, my bone marrow was drawn from me. Anna finally got discharged by the hospital. She got to wear new dresses that I never got to wear. In the year I turn nine years old, my body is heavily depleted. With a trembling hand, I can only write down a line in messy handwriting. "I hope… that I won't become Mom's daughter in my next life."

The day before the final round of Beta selection, I was poisoned with wolfsbane and locked inside my burning house. The fire spread too fast, and my weakened state prevented me from shifting. My wolf, Emma, screamed in my mind, but I couldn't escape. I clawed at the door as the flames seared my skin. When I was rescued, my body was covered in burns, my skin raw and torn. Outside the operating room, I heard my mother sobbing, repeating, “It’s my fault... I locked the door by accident... I never meant to...” Alpha David, my mate, called for every healer to restore me, but his cold words to my mother were chilling: “If Serina wasn’t so vain and selfish, I wouldn’t have had to do this. Becky was fragile, struggling with depression, yet Serina flaunted her success in front of her. This is what Serina owes her.” David’s actions were meant to pave the way for Becky to become Beta, but I was the one who suffered. He claimed to be treating me well, but destroying my health and future didn’t feel like care. I pressed my hand to my bandaged chest, the numbness spreading. Emma growled inside me, weakened by the wolfsbane. I no longer wanted the love of the mother who betrayed me or the mate who was supposed to protect me. I wanted nothing from them anymore.

My stepmother, Mary, hated me to the bone. All because when I was little, I went to a classmate’s house to play and forgot to close the courtyard gate. Her son ran onto the road and was hit to death by a car. My father loved my younger brother the most. After learning what happened, he was heartbroken. “Were you jealous of your brother? That’s why you deliberately left the gate open?” I desperately explained that I had closed the gate, but Dad didn’t believe me. He locked me in the basement and raised me like a dog for the rest of my life. Until one day, when Dad went on a business trip, Mary didn’t give me any food for three days. Starving, I crawled upstairs to the kitchen to look for something to eat. That was when I saw Mary sitting on a man’s lap, saying softly, “If you hadn’t forgotten to close the gate back then, I wouldn’t be living in fear every day of my husband finding out… We’re the ones who killed Ethan.” Only then did I understand that I wasn’t the one who had forgotten to close the gate and caused my brother to run outside, but my stepmother’s lover. Just as I was about to sneak back to the basement, my stepmother noticed me. “What did you hear? No! I can’t let your father find out that I killed our own son!” In a panic, she grabbed me and threw me down the stairs, killing me on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day the car hit my brother. I blinked my innocent, childlike eyes and pointed upstairs, speaking in a soft, baby voice, “Dad, I closed the gate. It was the man in Mom’s bedroom who didn’t!”

On my wedding day, my fiancé's first love walked in holding a little boy and named the groom as the child's father. My mother saw it, and her heart gave out. She died right there on the floor. The wedding collapsed and I went down with it, fainting in front of everyone. When I came to, my oldest friend, Lucian Graves, was sitting beside me. He held me tightly in his arms. He took care of all my mother’s funeral arrangements for me. When the reporters swarmed, he put himself between me and the cameras. He cleared my name over the wedding, and then he got down on one knee in front of everyone and asked me to marry him, swearing he would take care of me for the rest of my life. After marriage, we became the happiest couple in our circle. Then, on our first anniversary, I opened the chat history on his phone. "Don, thank God you set up that wedding disruption. My son and I are happy now." "You did get her mother killed, though. Don't blame yourself. She's the one who insisted on marrying a man who was never hers." The replies were from Lucian. "Nothing to blame myself for. It was just an accident." "As long as you're happy, there's nothing I won't do." The ground dropped out from under me, and the phone hit the floor.

In my previous life, my three sons told me they wanted to set up a Family Bond Fund for me. Each of them would deposit three thousand dollars every month. I cried with gratitude, truly believing that decades of sacrifice had finally paid off. One of them even said, "Mom, you've given us so much. It's our turn to take care of you now." However, eight years later, I was told I have uremia. That was when I discover that the bank card, which supposedly held the fund, couldn't even cover the dialysis deposit. Soon after, my eldest son video-called me. He said he wanted to buy a better apartment in a good school district. He was short of 150 thousand dollars for the down payment and asked if I could lend it to him first. My second son came to the hospital with his wife and daughter. He didn't ask about my condition at all. Instead, he kept showing off his daughter's piano competition trophy, hinting that he needed 50 thousand dollars to enroll her in a prestigious international piano program. My youngest son was even more straightforward. He said he had his eye on a limited-edition pair of sneakers and wanted me to pay 30 thousand dollars for them as a birthday gift. The moment they realized the bank account didn't have enough money, their faces fell. "We each put in three thousand dollars every month. Over eight years, that's at least eight hundred thousand dollars. Mom, are you hiding the money from us?" To force me to reveal my savings, they took turns pressuring me, switching between sweet talk and threats. They even told relatives that I had dementia and had been scammed out of my money. Unable to take it anymore, I yanked out my IV late one night and walked out of the hospital, only to be hit by a car, dying instantly. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day of my hospital checkup.

One day, Fisya Jazira lost all her savings and the small apartment she had bought with great difficulty. What's even sadder is that all of this was the work of her lover—Dean Brasta. She, who was on the verge of despair, decided to commit suicide. However, just as she was about to do that, suddenly a call stopped Fisya's steps. The call 'Mama' came out of the mouth of the boy who was hugging her leg. That boy was Adnan Adzura, the son of a famous billionaire—Regan Adzura. It's not enough to stop there. Fisya is faced with many bodyguards pointing guns at her. Finally, a proud and handsome man approached her and confessed that Adnan was his son. Upon hearing that name, Fisya finds out that he is not a random man, but the CEO of a well-known company—Regan Adzura dan the man asked her to make an agreement to be a surrogate mother for his son for 1 year. Will Fisya agree to it?

I was a saint in the light, but a sinner in the dark. To the world, I was a good girl marrying a billionaire twice my age. To Arthur Reynolds, I was his "angel", the virtuous bride who would bring life back into his silent mansion. But I wasn’t a saint. I was a secret. For six months, I was the girl on the pole at The Velvet Room. And Ethan Reynolds: Arthur’s cold, predatory, and brutally handsome son was my most frequent customer. He’d paid thousands to watch me, touch me, discipline me, and ruin me. He knew every curve of my body, every lie in my soul, and every scream I could produce. Now, I’m wearing his father’s ring. I’m living under his roof. And Ethan isn't just watching me anymore, he’s hunting me. He thinks I’m a gold-digger. He thinks I’ve played his father for a fool. And he’s determined to punish me for it. "You’re his wife in the daytime, Zola," he hissed, his hand tightening around my throat in the dark of the hallway. "But in this house, when the lights go out... you still belong to the man who bought you first." Arthur wants to own me. Ethan wants to break me. And I? I’m just trying to survive the man I’m legally forbidden to love.

Melissa was an unfortunate orphan who lived with her uncle and his cruel wife. She always made life unbearable for Melissa but Melissa always respected her all through. Tragedy struck when her aunt married her off to a very powerful playboy CEO who never spared her a glance. He always violated and cheated on her. One day, her husband could not put up with her, so he sent her away. What happens when she meets a 15-year-old girl who wanted Melissa to get married to her father? What happens when melissa's ex-husband wants her back? Find out in this interesting story you wouldn't want to miss.,

When Mom punishes me, her palms are sweaty. I know she's even more nervous than I am. She's scared that others will accuse her of favoring me. When the rest of my classmates perform poorly in class, all she does is tell them to review the lesson and do a few more exercises. But when I'm the one who does badly, she points at the field outside the window. Despite the burning midday heat of June, she commands, "Julia Swanson! You're going to stand out on the field and memorize all the words you messed up. You're not allowed to come back in until you know everything by heart!" Everyone in the classroom looks at me. One of my classmates mutters, "Ms. Campbell is being way too hard on her own daughter." Mom hears that comment, and her eyes flash with satisfaction. That's precisely what she wants everyone to see. No one will dare say she's biased toward me if she punishes me the most harshly out of all the students. "Why are you still here?" she barks at me. "Get out. You think you can get into a top college with grades like yours?" The classmate sitting next to me tugs on my sleeve and whispers, "Why don't you try asking her to go easier on you? It's blazing hot outside." I shake my head. The most futile thing I can ever do is ask Mom to go easier on me in school. She prides herself on her professionalism as a teacher. It's a matter of principle to her. But she has forgotten that it's over 104 degrees Fahrenheit outside. Not wanting to disappoint her, I stand out in the sun. The blazing hot air dries up my sweat—and my tears. Eventually, my vision goes blurry. The world seems to spin around me… As I collapse onto the ground, I hear Mom tell her colleague, "I'll just get a popsicle as a gesture and bring that stubborn daughter of mine back inside later." She has no idea that I won't be able to accept her olive branch anymore.

My sister, Laura Ward, died the year we were ten, the year we snuck out of school to play. From that day forward, my mother’s grief turned into a burning hatred for me, convinced that I was the reason my sister was gone. She treated me like a servant, like an unwanted burden, and filled the void by adopting a perfect, obedient daughter to replace my sister. She took everything from me without a second thought — my rights, my freedom, my very existence — and even demanded that I give up a kidney for her precious adopted girl. Alright, Mother, if you want a life, I’ll give you mine! But it was only when my body lay cold, my breath long gone, that she finally turned and looked at me.