More Than One Night นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Richard Lorde’s childhood friend had just become a widow. On our fifth wedding anniversary, he brought his childhood friend and her daughter into a karaoke box and removed my ring right before everyone. “Lily needs a proper status right now. It’s no longer right for you to wear that ring. “Resign from your job tomorrow and take care of Lily and her daughter.” Everyone in the room fell silent as they waited for me to blow my top off. But I said nothing. I calmly brought out the divorce agreement I had already signed, put it on the table, and left. My best friend stood up to advise me against it, but Richard just swung the wine glass and snorted. “Let her. She’ll come begging for my forgiveness before tomorrow.” When I slammed the door shut, I heard laughter from the room. What they did not know was that half an hour ago, I had received a message telling me that my visa application had been approved. The person in charge of picking me up had been waiting at my house ten minutes ago. This time, I was not turning back.

Yvonne Larson, my housekeeper, has always been punctual, but she ends up being late today. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Carter. Dinner's not ready yet. I hope you won't mind. I had no choice. I waited for over half an hour, but no one got the door for me. I even called Mrs. Carter a few times, but she didn't take my calls. That's why I ended up running late." Halfway through changing into my house slippers, I pause and frown. "Yvonne, didn't Susanna give you the access card to the apartment?" Yvonne looks confused. "The access card? Mrs. Carter never gave me any card." "Never?" "That's right," Yvonne confirms timidly while wiping the sweat off her brow. "For the past month, I've always had to call Mrs. Carter and ask her to open the door for me. She wasn't picking up her phone today, so I had to wait outside…" That's strange. I've checked the logs before. The access card has been used multiple times throughout the past month.

Nadia Reyes has died twelve times. Different centuries, different methods — same hands, same face, same cold eyes watching her take her final breath. At twenty-seven, armed with soul memories that science cannot explain and a rage that twelve lifetimes of dying has sharpened into something precise, she stops running. She spends eight months engineering an introduction to Dorian Ashvale — the man her soul recognizes as her killer — seduces him deliberately, and marries him with one goal: end the cycle on her terms before he ends it on his. Dorian doesn't remember any of it. He only knows that Nadia feels like a memory he was never supposed to have, and that marrying her is the first decision in his life that has ever felt completely, terrifyingly right. But as Nadia moves closer to executing her revenge, her forensic genealogy skills uncover something that fractures everything — Dorian's violence across lifetimes wasn't chosen. His soul has been hijacked by an ancient predatory entity that feeds on Nadia's interrupted purpose, growing stronger every time she dies before completing something she was always meant to finish. The monster she married didn't kill her. Something far older did — using his hands. As the entity begins to activate, triggering blackout episodes Dorian cannot control, Nadia faces the most dangerous realization of all thirteen lifetimes: she is falling in love with the man she planned to destroy. Book 1 ends when Dorian surfaces from his worst blackout yet to find Nadia bleeding — and looks at her with the eyes of a man who remembers nothing and is about to lose everything.

I help my students gain admission to top state art academies, yet my boss, Sebastian Emerson, withholds every cent of the pay I earned from 24 consecutive days of overtime. When I confront him in anger, he accuses me of stealing 120 thousand dollars in training fees from the students. "Honestly, being poor is no excuse for being shady. And having disabled parents doesn't give you the right to steal. "You've got two days to pay it back! Otherwise, I'll make sure you spend a few nights in jail, and I'll even inform your parents!" When a student calls, he snatches the phone and starts screaming, "There's no money! All your tuition went into buying your art supplies! If you've got a problem, go ahead and sue me, brat!" Meanwhile, Jayla Buckley, who is curled up in his arms, keeps placing order after order of Chaennal haute couture without the slightest hesitation. Watching the two of them colluding so shamelessly, I grip my attorney license in my pocket until my knuckles ache. Take it to court? Litigation? That's my arena. And I'll make sure both of them end up exactly where they belong—behind bars.

I had been married to Lucius Martin for three years, and in all that time, there was never a shortage of women around him. Each time he brought another woman home, he would give me a necklace worth a fortune. In just three short years, I had accumulated ninety-nine necklaces. When Lucius fastened the hundredth necklace around my neck, I no longer cried or made a scene. Because this time, the woman he cheated with was my own older sister, the one who had beaten and scolded me since we were children. The man I loved most joined hands with the person I hated most to torment me together. At that moment, my heart finally died. This time, I took the initiative and walked up to Lucius, placing a house purchase contract into his hands. "As long as you sign this," I said, "you can do whatever you want with her." A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, but in the end, he signed without hesitation. For the first time ever, he even leaned down and gently kissed my cheek. "Good girl," he murmured. "You've finally learned to behave." I personally opened the car door for him and watched as he hurried off toward my sister. When the car disappeared completely from sight, I let out a long breath. Then I reached beneath the documents and pulled out the paper hidden there—a divorce agreement.

Nelly Robinson stood at a crossroads, burdened by her grandmother’s escalating hospital bills and the profound grief of losing her only support. The weight of the circumstances pressed down on her, leaving her with no choice but to take action. With determination in her heart, she made the difficult decision to drop out of college, a bold step fueled by the urgent need for financial stability and independence. As she began her new life as a waitress at a bustling restaurant, she quickly learned that the job was rife with challenges. The clatter of dishes and the cacophony of voices surrounded her as she navigated the often turbulent waters of demanding customers, each interaction testing her patience and resolve. Then, fate intervened in the form of Jason Wilson, a commanding presence who exuded confidence and charisma. His sharp suit and piercing gaze made it clear that he was a force to be reckoned with in the world of business. After a one night stand with her, he presented her with an unexpected yet compelling offer—a marriage contract—Nelly's heart raced with a mix of excitement and apprehension. At that moment, she understood that her life was on the brink of a breathtaking transformation, one that promised to shatter her current reality and open doors to new adventures filled with both challenges and opportunities. What awaits her as she marries the wealthy CEO, especially when she starts receiving death threats from his parents' favored bride, Diana? What will happen when she discovers that she is the missing heir to the Robinson’s Enterprise?

I was twelve when Henry Shaw took me home from the orphanage, gave me a new name, put me through school, and gave me a good life. Ten years later, his first love returned from abroad. Her name sounded like mine, and her face looked like a mirror image. I quickly realized I had been a stand-in all along. Crushing the diagnosis in my pocket, I decided that I was going to live the rest of my life for myself, even if I did not have much time left.

In order to take care of my father, who got hurt from a fall, I gave up on my chance to get promoted and even took a week's leave. On the day he gets discharged from the hospital, my dad hands me a mysterious envelope with a wide smile on his face. "Thank you for your trouble over the past few days, Luther. This is a little token of appreciation from me. You can buy yourself a nice pack of smokes." I rub my hands together, feeling warmth surging into my heart. But when I open the envelope, all I see is seven dollars. Still, I comfort myself in thinking that the sum isn't important at all. It's the thought that counts, after all. But the next day, I come across a social media post of my younger brother, Felix Grayson, who never showed his face around the hospital during Dad's hospitalization. It features a photo collage of a luxurious villa, with a photo of the purchasing contract smack dab in the middle of collage. The caption writes, "I bought the top-tier riverside villa for seven million dollars! Thank you so much for your support, Dad!"

To celebrate my mom's birthday, I fly back from abroad. At the same time, I plan to meet my fiancé, Kylo Winston, whom I have never met before, to discuss calling off the engagement. Unexpectedly, the custom cake I ordered for the special occasion gets knocked over. Kylo's childhood sweetheart, Nora Cullen, even falsely accuses me of dirtying her limited-edition designer bag. She screeches, "Who do you think you are? How dare you get engaged to Kylo? I'm his real wife! As long as you kneel and beg for mercy and say you're a worthless good-for-nothing, I'll let you off. Otherwise, I'll let you have a taste of what the Winston family of Silverlake is capable of!" I look at the ruined cake in my hands and smile frostily. What perfect timing. I'm planning to break off my engagement with Kylo anyway. So, I dial his mother's number and say, "I just heard the Winston family has two future daughters-in-law. Is that true?"

I married Don Matteo in secret. Every time he fucked his childhood sweetheart, he promised me a real wedding，in front of the Five Families. For five years, Matteo promised me ninety-nine times. And ninety-nine times, he left me at the altar. The first time, Cecilia’s prize-winning show cat died. To comfort her, he postponed the wedding for three months. I stood at the altar alone, eyes red, trying to calm down the family elders. The second time, Cecilia threw a tantrum at a casino and shattered a hundred-million-dollar antique vase. He diverted the private jet meant for their wedding and rushed through the night to clean up her mess. And every time, right before our wedding, his childhood sweetheart would have some kind of emergency. I cried. I screamed. I even held a gun to his head. But Matteo would just pin me against the wall and shut me up with a cold, hard kiss. “She’s just a fuck. You are Mrs. Falcone. Have some goddamn class.” After the ninety-ninth time, I was finally done. I slid the papers across the table. The ink was still wet, the Falcone family seal stamped at the bottom. “Our marriage, our alliance—it’s over.”