Mizi And Sua Alien Stage Novels & Stories

My girlfriend's so-called guy best friend found out I had epilepsy. He deliberately spiked my drink with stimulants. The moment I drank it, my nervous system was overstimulated. My heart rate surged. My chest tightened. Then the familiar warning signs hit–blurred vision, fragmented awareness, the onset of a seizure. The next second, I lost control of my body and collapsed onto the floor. My muscles convulsed violently. My jaw locked tight. My breathing turned uneven. I struggled to pull out the emergency medication I always carried with me, trying to stop the seizure from worsening. However, just as I was about to take it, I realized the hot water in my bottle had been replaced with highly concentrated coffee. The extra caffeine intensified the neurological stimulation. My convulsions worsened. My thoughts became more chaotic. My fingers stiffened to the point where I could barely move. Aaron Stone looked down at me on the floor and laughed. "Not bad. You're pretty convincing. "I've seen plenty of seizure patients before. Never seen anyone act this well." Gasping for air, I forced myself onto my knees in front of Mia, my jaw tightening from the spasms. "Mia... call an ambulance... I'm having a seizure..." Mia frowned at my obvious condition, but there was only impatience on her face. "Enough already. "If you keep acting like this, it's honestly too much. Since when can people having seizures still talk? "Aaron's a doctor. With him here, what could possibly happen to you?" I stopped trying to explain. Because I was already entering the next stage of neurological collapse. Even speaking had become difficult. Using the last of my strength, I pulled out my phone and sent an emergency distress message.

Bianca is dying. Acute myeloid leukemia, stage three. The family doctor told me on the phone—bone marrow transplant, only option, perfect match. Identical twins share ninety-nine percent compatibility. I crushed the diagnosis report. My name was at the top: Gemma Blackwell. But the doctor trembled, whispering apologies. A clerical error. The sick twin was Bianca. The cure was me. I had to get home. Rain lashed the taxi windows. I rehearsed the scene: Father setting down his cigar, Mother gasping, me explaining the mix-up. The report has my name, but the blood work is Bianca's. I can fix this before it's too late. My phone lit up. Family group chat. Father's message was short: [Gemma is terminal. Bianca forbidden from donation. Family decision.] My blood turned to ice. They had seen the misdelivered file. They thought I was the one dying—and they had voted to let me rot. When I pushed open the door and saw Father, I felt it— the temperature drop, the world freezing around me. Tears burned my eyes. I couldn't stop them. "Father," I said, my voice barely steady. "I have a question for you." He looked up from his cigar, annoyed. "If it were Bianca dying," I whispered. "Would you have made me give her my marrow?" The room went silent. He set down the cigar. A long pause. "No," he said finally. "Of course. We have resources. We would find another donor. We would never ask you to take that risk." I smiled a little. Just a small, sad smile. "Good," I said softly. "That's exactly what you said. Don't regret this."

On campus, he was the most well-behaved student in the entire department. Oversized hoodies, black-rimmed glasses, quiet enough to fade into the background. Even when facing the notoriously strict Professor Elliott, he would only lower his head, clutch his books, and murmur a timid, “Professor.” At night, he became the most intoxicating dancer in the club. He wrapped himself around the pole, bent low, rolled his hips—each movement driving the men below into a frenzy. Bills were stuffed into the strap around his thigh as they shouted his name. To cover his obscene tuition fees, he took a private party offering an equally obscene payout. Inside the VIP room, he straddled the pole, bathed in dim, hazy light, fingers reaching for the final restraint he was meant to undo. Suddenly, the man lounging on the sofa stubbed out his cigar and stood. The light swept across his face— It was Elliott. The very man he feared most by day. He walked onto the stage step by step, then slammed him hard against the pole in full view of everyone. “Can’t even breathe in front of me during the day,” Elliott sneered, “but at night you’re here shaking your ass, begging men to f*k you?” His mentor wrenched his arms behind his back. Hot lips brushed his trembling earlobe, his voice low and dangerous. “Noah,” he murmured, “if you’re that desperate for money… why didn’t you just come to me? How much—per night?” He panicked and tried to struggle, but Elliott forced his legs apart with his knee, pinning him against the cold metal. “Don’t hide,” Elliott said softly. “Now. Take off the rest—right in front of me. And if you perform well…” A pause, deliberate. “I’ll pay you ten times tonight’s fee

To help my husband, Henry Carter, pay off a million-dollar debt, I clean windows and scrub toilets in an office building on Valentine's Day just for the triple pay. After I'm done with the windows, I am about to transfer the last 50 thousand dollars of the debt when a post suddenly pops up on my phone. The title of the post is, "What is something you see in real life that makes you feel sorry for someone, even if they are your enemy?" One of the top comments says, "The person I hate the most is my boyfriend's wife. My boyfriend pretends to be poor to spend money on me and cheats his wife out of over a million. That woman works day and night at a cleaning company just to make money for me! "This has gone on for eight years. That woman has been scrubbing toilets for eight years! Even if she is my enemy, I feel sorry for her." I freeze, and my fingers tremble uncontrollably. No way. It has to be a coincidence. I stare at those words, stunned and unable to recover from the shock. Then, a new comment appears, "Now, my boyfriend plans to fake an illness by telling his wife that he has cancer. He's going to trick her into giving him money to buy me a car." At that exact moment, Henry sends me a message. The instant I open it, I feel my heart skip a beat. It reads, "I'm sorry, honey. I'm sick—I have cancer. The doctor says we need to prepare 80 thousand dollars for treatment. I hate myself for this. Why am I even alive? I'm just dragging you down with me." The words "late-stage liver cancer" in the attached diagnosis report are painful to look at. I think in dismay, "Henry, you do not need to pretend to be sick. You are indeed in the late stage of cancer."

Disclaimer: This story has 18+ Sexual Theme and Violence, no one under 18 is allowed to read this. *"Are you sure you're ready for this? Are you willing to give yourself to me?" The intensity of his gaze made me want to do anything for him. His eyelids were heavy, his breath wild and thirsty for me—exactly what I had always wanted, for him to be crazy for me. "I give you all of myself, as long as you'll have me," I whispered in his ear, kissing his neck. His hand moved up my back, slowly unhooking my bra, caressing my neck with the back of his fingers. As my bra fell away, he took a moment to look at me, sighing in amazement. "You are beautiful, Julia," he murmured, kissing my neck. I tilted my head back, heart pounding as he whispered against the skin of my chest, "You are mine, Julia." He pressed his ear to my chest. "Did you hear that? That heartbeat calls my name!"* *Growing up in my childhood town, it was my dream to pursue my Music Career. Like any ordinary teenager, I had millions of dreams: To go on a world tour, perform on stage, to become famous. I couldn't have thought I was cursed decades before I was even born, and then I had to come back to my mother's hometown, thinking I might escape him, while accidentally landing in his trap. And then, I met them - two captivating men who stole my heart with their charismatic presence and mysterious allure. Now I'm torn between them in a world where I'm not allowed to fall in love. --- I'm Julia Murphy, and I'm marked by a demon, who won't stop at anything until he gets his claws on me.*

18+ Mature content. - - - - Skye Hale swore she'd never let another person she loved die without answers. Her mother was silenced by a cartel hit, the case buried by the very agency she served. Skye became the hunter instead. Undercover. Relentless. Willing to burn everything to uncover the truth. Then Zane, the only man who ever made her feel safe, forced her to choose: him or the ghosts. She chose him. They planned a wedding. She almost believed she could leave the darkness behind. Three days before the vows, her best friend Red was gunned down in the same strip club where she danced to survive. The same cartel. The same cover-up. The morning she was supposed to walk down the aisle, an anonymous file landed in her phone. Proof that Red died trying to help her, and the killer's trail led straight back to the man who once ran her mother's missions. Skye walked out in her wedding dress, left Zane at the altar, and vanished into the night. Now deep in Australia’s dangerous underworld, she works as a stripper to infiltrate the cartel. The sexual addiction she buried years ago has roared back stronger than ever. Every slow, sensual grind on stage, every pair of hungry hands sliding over her bare skin, feeds the raw, aching hunger she can no longer control. As Skye seduces dangerous men for information, the stakes rise dangerously high. A former colleague wants her dead. The protector sent to bring her home hides a shocking betrayal. And the powerful man who ordered her mother’s murder is closer than she imagined, close enough to touch, close enough to taste. One wrong move, and she'll lose her life. One right touch, and she'll lose herself. Skye Hale came for justice. She might leave in ashes.

My name is Melanie Sutton. The moment I'm reborn, the first thing I do is scatter the "ashes" of my best friend, Helen Doyle. In my last life, she got pregnant before marriage and was abandoned by both her boyfriend and her family. She struggled alone all the way through childbirth, only to suffer massive bleeding in the delivery room. With her last breath, she begged me to adopt her son. I agreed out of pity. To raise the child, I fell behind in my studies and was forced to drop out of school. With no choice, I took my adopted son, Aidan Sutton, with me to work, enduring endless humiliation and cold stares. Finally, when he turned 18, a talent scout discovered him. One movie later, he became an overnight sensation and won Best Actor. At the awards ceremony, Helen, whom I watched die 18 years ago, entered arm in arm with my ex-boyfriend, Joe Shepherd. Stunned, I rushed forward to confront her. She only smiled at me. "Congratulations, you passed the test." I stood there in shock as Joe explained proudly, "Helen is the daughter of the richest man. Who knows if you got close to her for her money? "Since you've raised our son well, you can be her ordinary friend. If you raise him until he gets married and has kids, then you can become Helen's best friend." My mind exploded. As if I wanted to be her friend. That was 18 years of my life! Overwhelmed by fury and hurt, I lunged at the two of them with bloodshot eyes. But Aidan suddenly rushed down from the stage and shoved me hard. "Are you crazy? How dare you hurt my parents?" Anger rushed to my head, and I passed out right then and there. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day Helen goes into labor.

The day before our wedding, my fiance, Yale Salvatore, died in an accident. He had been setting up the venue when the stage collapsed. I'm now a widow and carrying his child. Devastated with grief, I even tried to end my life. However, my parents-in-law urge me not to grieve too much. After all, I'm pregnant and need to stay strong for the child's sake. On the day of Yale's funeral, his older twin brother arrives from Novavista with his wife and child. They're here to attend the funeral. His face is so identical to Yale's that I nearly mistook him for Yale several times. By accident, I overheard a conversation between him and my in-laws. "You faked your death just for Gwen King? Sasha is pregnant with your child! Do you want your baby to be born fatherless?" "You did all of this just so you could be with Gwen out in the open?" My brother-in-law, exasperatedly explains, "Mom, Dad, Gwen has cancer. She has less than a month to live. She's loved me for years, and her dying wish is to marry me. "Once she passes, I'll return to Sasha's side and give her an even grander wedding. Then, I'll be there for the birth of our child, and we'll raise him together." Hearing this, I'm so shocked I can't speak. My so-called "brother-in-law" is actually my fiance, Yale! For the sake of helping another woman fulfill her dying wish, he doesn't care how upset or devastated I may be. And once he completes his benevolent mission, he intends to return to my side? No. My fiance, Yale, is already dead. I won't beg him to come back. And in three days, I'll be just like him. I'll be lying beneath a cold gravestone, and I'll forever vanishing from his world, he will never find me again...

“After drinking the potion, your wolf scent will be completely altered and your mate bond will be broken. Are you sure you want to do this?” The witch looked at me in surprise. "I'm sure." I nodded calmly and drank the potion without hesitation. My Alpha mate, Lucas, marked me three years ago but never held a formal mating ceremony because he spent three years designing a wedding dress for me himself. That was until a week before the ceremony, when I watched Lucas with my own eyes as he draped that Luna gown over my sister, Seraphina—who had been missing for three years. Even my beloved Beta twin brothers, who doted on me the most, were gathered around Seraphina. Seraphina and I were twin sisters. I had a crush on Lucas for ten years, but I knew Lucas had always loved her. However, three years ago, when the pack was on the verge of extinction after an attack by rogue wolves, Seraphina ran away, abandoning everyone. When everyone was in despair, I fought with all my might to protect everyone until Lucas and my brothers returned. I almost died in that battle. Lucas, trembling, held my hand and asked if I would be his mate. He said I had saved the entire pack, that I was the bravest she-wolf. My brothers also swore that Seraphina, that coward, had been banished from the family. They said that from now on, I was their only sister. Until two days ago, when Seraphina returned. She claimed that she didn't run away but left to lure away a more vicious pack of rogues. She said she had been poisoned with silver toxicity during the fight and only had a month to live. Lucas and my brothers believed her without hesitation. To make up for the three years they "owed" her, and to fulfill Seraphina's "dying wish," they decided—to give my Mating Ceremony to her. After drinking the potion, I sent a message to the Alpha King of the Northern Territory: I am willing to join the Northern Territory. Help me stage a fake death in a week.

I was in a car accident while saving my brothers. However, instead of gratitude, they urged the doctors to amputate my legs. "Carol, we're sorry," they said through tears. "We're useless… but don't worry. Even if we have to sell our blood or our kidneys, we'll make sure you're taken care of." Right after surgery, they abandoned me in a shabby apartment. Blood seeped through the sheets as they looked at me with teary eyes—then left in a hurry, claiming they needed to earn money for my treatment. I did not want to drag them down anymore. Enduring the pain, I crawled to the rooftop of a tall building, planning to end my life. That's when I saw it—inside a luxury hotel, a grand celebration was taking place. My brothers were there doting on another girl. She was eating an extravagant cake I had never even dreamed of, wearing a designer princess gown worth a fortune, sparkling with jewels. Everyone called her the Smith family's one and only princess. They had even hired a world-class symphony orchestra to play Happy Birthday just for her. While I lay bleeding in a dingy apartment, they would not spend a few dollars on bandages for me. I watched as my eldest brother gently fed her cake, his eyes full of tenderness. "Jasmine, only you deserve to be our one and only little sister." The second brother placed a tiara on her head with care. "Even for the smallest birthday, we won't let you suffer a single moment of disappointment." The third knelt to help her into a pair of crystal shoes. "Jasmine, you're our most precious darling." Then, standing on the stage, Jasmine held up the black credit card they had gifted her and smiled sweetly. "Brothers," she said, "Carol lost her legs saving you. Maybe you should go see how she's doing?" My eldest brother let out a mocking laugh. "She's not worth it. Now that she's crippled, she'll never be able to compete with you again. She got what she deserved."