Mirror Shot Rpw Port

In the tenth year of being the secret lover of Luca, a Mafia Don, I died. When the bullet tore through my chest, I used the last of my strength to dial his number. “Luca, I’ve been shot… Please, save me…” On the other end, he let out a careless, mocking snort. “Eva, is this another one of your tragic‑act routines? Helena’s waiting for me to have breakfast with her. I’m tired of this game. Stop bothering me.” Then, the call cut off without mercy, and so I closed my eyes in despair. When I opened them again, I had gone back seven days before the shooting. This time, with trembling fingers, I dialed a number I hadn’t dared to touch in three years. “Marcus, three years ago, you said you’d marry me. Do you still stand by it?” The voice on the other end exploded. “Eva! You finally called me! I’m in Sicily, clearing out an enemy faction. I can’t get back right now. “Give me seven days. I swear I’ll come back to you in a blaze of glory!”

"You hate me, right?" I shook my head but he pulled me closer to his chest. "Feelings are mutual honey," his hot minty breath reached to my ears. He gripped my arms tightly and I winced from the pain. A tear fell from my eyes, I tried to push him but he was way stronger than me. "Daniyal, it's hurting" i cried out. "I know right," he smirked at me. He leaned into me and his lips were about to touch mine, I pushed him away with full force "What were you doing with me Daniyal?" I yelled, his face was red from anger, he held my wrist and pushed me to the walls. "You think, I'll do this with you, really?" He let out a loud chuckle and shot a glare at me. "You're just a piece of trash,my dad bought for me to play but I don't wanna lower my standard so don't worry, I'm not gonna touch you, " his words shattered my heart into pieces. I was his wife, his unwanted wife.

**Dez** Dezmond woke in a cold sweat. The ache in his heart was worse than ever before. It had been growing more intense over the past few weeks. He got out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash his face. He didn't bother looking in the mirror, he knew what he would see. His face would be white and his eyes haunted with the need to find answers. Dezmond needed to know why he was being tormented in his dreams. He was never supposed to dream again. "I can't take this anymore." said Dezmond gloomily. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ **Ruby** Ruby couldn't focus in class, another night of tossing and turning. Seeing the flames consume her house. Hearing the screams as her family slowly died, knowing there was nothing she could do. It had been almost three years since the incident. The day she lost her family in the fire. She was the only one who wasn't in the house. And she relived that horror every night in her dreams. Though recently her nightmares felt different. More like a warning rather than a memory. "Rough night?" whispered Haven. Haven had been friends with Ruby since they were little kids. "Yeah, they started happening again." Ruby whispered back. They never really stopped. "Have you talked to anyone about it? Ruby, you can't keep it a secret forever." This is the same discussion they had just after the incident.

Maya's marriage to Leo is a silent, polite tomb. Once passionate artists of their own lives, they are now buried under the mountains of parenthood, two ghosts co-managing a household. Desperate to resurrect the man she loves and the woman she lost, Maya makes a radical choice. She doesn't want just a date night-she wants an adventurous detonation. She orchestrates a forbidden fantasy: a single, explosive night with a captivating stranger. The experience is a mirror, reflecting back their boldest, most alive selves. For a glorious moment, it works. But the adventurous high crashes into a brutal dawn. Misunderstandings poison their paradise. Maya's possessive fears twist every glance into a betrayal, while Leo's possessive longing feels like a sentence. The very fantasy meant to unite them becomes the weapon that drives them further apart than ever before. Facing total collapse, they must confront the raw truth: the fantasy didn't break them-it exposed the fractures they'd long ignored. To save their marriage, they must embark on a more perilous adventure than any night of passion: navigating the wreckage of their trust, where every misunderstanding dismantled is a step toward a new foundation, and where possessive love must evolve into a chosen, fiercely protective partnership. This is a raw, intimate story about the wild in lengths we go to save what we love, proving that sometimes, to find each other again, you must first get completely lost.

"I, Alpha Xander Kovani, reject you, the cursed Cara Smyth, as my mate!" He growled before the crowd, shattering me because this meant my end. I had no one else but him, and now he had abandoned me. Tears stained my cheeks as I whispered through the pain burning my throat. "I, Cara Smyth, accept your rejection, Alpha Xander..." I screamed when they seized my arm and took me. Now, a ruthless Lycan King awaited me on the other side. *** Cara Smyth worked as an underground doctor for the supernatural. She shifted faces when the house calls got too dangerous, but she could never be too lucky. Because, when a wolf tycoon's blood died on her watch, not even her ability could save her from his wrath. The Lycan King of Eastmoon, Kaloyan Kaine, suddenly had two handfuls to take care of; special twin sons abandoned in the woods. He's looking for a nanny, offered at the price of a million dollars, because she would also become his wife. Meanwhile, Cara sees her shot at staying alive in Kaloyan's proposal.

“What if I told you I don’t care?” Amelia shot back, her tone sharp and unwavering. Miguel’s lips curved into a sly smile, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “Then I’d say you’re lying to yourself, Mia. Because no one fights this hard unless they feel something.” Amelia Hart’s quiet, predictable life is upended when her mother marries the wealthy Emilio Sanchez, bringing Amelia face-to-face with her new stepbrother, Miguel Angel Sanchez. Wanton, arrogant, and infuriatingly charming, Miguel is everything she detests in a person. But sharing a home—and a school—turns Amelia’s disdain into a fiery rivalry, and their clashes soon spark something neither of them can deny. Torn between her lifelong crush on the handsome, dependable Christian Grammer and the undeniable pull toward Miguel’s dangerous charm, Amelia’s world becomes even more complicated than she imagined. As secrets are exposed and the pressures of their families, the media, and their own hearts collide, Amelia and Miguel must decide whether to risk it all for a love that feels as impossible as it does inevitable. In this passionate enemies-to-lovers story, where love and hate blur at every turn, the greatest risk might just be following their hearts.

I burned my painting right in front of the students and university staff. Thunderous applause filled the hall. Everyone thought it was some kind of performance. But my senior in the graduate program panicked. He rushed forward and grabbed my wrist, his voice tight. “Connor, have you gone mad? This is your only shot to prove yourself!” I shook him off, cold. A chance? That was his chance, right? During my past life, he stole the painting I poured my heart and soul into and entered it in the competition ahead of me. The composition, the colors, even my original technique… He copied all of it. He won the Gold Award for the National Youth Art Competition, signed with a top gallery, and basked in glory. Meanwhile, I was branded a shameless plagiarist. The insults and curses overwhelmed me completely. "Get out of the art scene already!" “A plagiarist like you should just die!” His fans stormed my studio, smashed my tools, and broke my right hand. With my world in ruins, I jumped off the studio roof. Opening my eyes again, I realized I had returned to the day my senior accused me of plagiarism.

La première période de chaleurs après ma transformation en loup-garou, mon petit ami Florian a rompu avec moi. Je n'arrêtais pas de pleurer, non pas parce que j'étais triste, mais parce que la douleur des chaleurs était sur le point de m'engloutir. J'ai tiré désespérément sur sa manche, essayant de l'embrasser de force pour apaiser ma souffrance. Mais il m'a poussée avec impatience vers son frère en disant : « Mon frère, Camille a trop bu et ne pouvait pas se contrôler, peux-tu la calmer pour moi ? » En voyant Louis s'approcher, mon petit ami a ajouté à voix basse : « Louis, garde un œil sur elle, ne laisse aucun autre homme s'approcher. Je romps juste temporairement avec elle, mais une fois que j'en aurai assez de m'amuser, je reviendrai avec elle. » Louis a hoché la tête, m'a portée dans la voiture et m'a consolée avec douceur : « Tu souffres beaucoup ? » Incapable de supporter la douleur des chaleurs, j'ai attrapé sa cravate en pleurant et l'ai supplié : « Aide-moi... » Les pupilles de Louis se sont rétrécies, sa voix était rauque : « Comment veux-tu que je t'aide ? » J'ai collé mes lèvres aux siennes et ajouté : « Embrasse-moi... ou laisse-moi t'embrasser. » À la fin de ce baiser passionné, ma souffrance s'est largement apaisée. J'ai regardé Louis, dont le bout des oreilles était rouge, et j'ai de nouveau attrapé sa cravate. « Peux-tu me raccompagner chez moi ? »

Quatre années de mariage. Sa seule signature m'a rendue libre. Il n'a jamais su ce qu'il signait. Je suis Sophie Moreau, l'épouse invisible de Julien Moreau, héritier de la famille mafieuse la plus puissante de la ville. Mais le jour où Victoria, son amour d'enfance, brillante et privilégiée, est revenue, j'ai enfin compris : je n'avais toujours été qu'une passagère. Alors, j'ai joué mon dernier coup. J'ai glissé les papiers sur son bureau — un divorce habilement déguisé en simples formulaires universitaires. Julien a signé sans même y jeter un second regard, sa plume griffonnant la page avec autant de désinvolture qu'il en avait eu pour notre mariage. Il n'a pas vu qu'il mettait fin à notre mariage. Mais je suis partie avec bien plus que ma liberté. Sous mon manteau, je portais l'héritier qu'il n'avait jamais imaginé… un secret qui pourrait le détruire le jour où il comprendrait ce qu'il avait perdu. À présent, Julien, qui ne m'avait jamais remarquée, retourne le monde pour me retrouver. Du sommet de son penthouse jusqu'aux bas-fonds, il fouille chaque recoin, soulève chaque pierre. Sauf que je ne suis pas une proie apeurée qui attend qu'on la capture. Je me suis reconstruite hors de sa portée — là où aucun membre de Moreau ne peut me suivre. Cette fois, je ne supplierai pas pour son amour. C'est lui qui suppliera pour le mien.

Stephen divorced his wife, Elena, after discovering she was having an affair—or so he thought. What Stephen didn’t realize was that Elena was pregnant with his child, and the accusations were nothing more than lies fueled by his mother’s hatred toward her. When the truth finally came to light, Stephen was overcome with guilt. Desperate to make amends, he set out to find Elena and bring her and their unborn child back home. But his search ended in heartbreak—he discovered that Elena had vanished, leaving behind only whispers that she had jumped into the river. Her existence had seemingly disappeared without a trace. Years passed, but Stephen never forgave himself. He lived with the haunting regret of losing the love of his life. Then, one fateful day, everything changed. He met a baby girl named Rose, whose face was a perfect mirror of Elena’s. Curiosity and hope drove Stephen to seek answers, and when he met Rose’s mother, he was stunned to learn the truth—Elena was alive. But the shock didn’t end there. When Stephen confronted Rose's mother, she insisted she didn’t know him. She claimed her name was Davina and that she was married, living a life far removed from anything Stephen had known. What had happened to Elena? Was this truly his wife, or a woman who simply bore an uncanny resemblance? And if it was Elena, what had led her to erase every trace of her former life?