Novel & Cerita Naruto Jiraiya Scroll

I accidentally clicked on a viral post. [What’s one regret that you can’t get over in your life?] Everyone in the comments said things like not studying well or not purchasing a house when it was cheaper. I felt a little bored by it. I was about to scroll past when I accidentally came across a comment with the highest number of likes. The account had a profile picture that was very familiar to mine. [Five years ago, to elope with my first love, I faked my death to leave my husband. [And I used my husband’s research to help my first love kickstart his business. [Now, my first love is a billionaire, and my husband became a butcher.] Some people reprimanded her and her first love in the comment section. Others reminisced about their past. I scrolled to the end of the post and saw the latest reply. [I’m back in the city, and I’ve decided to meet him.]

That night, while scrolling through a secondhand marketplace, I came across a bizarre listing. [Virtual Girlfriend Companion Service — 99.9 dollars/month, premium relationship experience. [Emotionally stable, available on demand, online 24/7, satisfaction guaranteed. [Rave reviews, three customers have already renewed. DM for details.] More than a dozen user reviews were stacked below. [The experience is incredible—more attentive than my ex. Totally worth the money!] [OP, where did you find such a gem? Share the source, please.] [Is this girlfriend AI? She's way too obedient.] [How much to buy her out?] The seller replied: [Real-person service, exclusive source. Tenfold compensation if proven fake. Buyout inquiries via DM.] I frowned, a mix of disbelief and disgust tightening my chest, and was just about to scroll past. Then, by chance, I caught a glimpse of a partially blurred chat background image in the details section. It was something I had drawn myself—the matching profile pictures my long-distance boyfriend and I used.

At the engagement party, the champagne tower is only half-built when Marcus Harrison answers a phone call. He glances at me and says, "I have to go. Lily collapsed at the airport." I say, "If you leave, we're done." He leaves anyway, in front of 200 guests. He carries Lily Bardot in his arms, wearing the coat I gave him, as he drives away in my car. The next day, he sends me an email that reads, "Lily will be moving into my apartment. She needs me, and I hope you can understand. Once Lily gets better, we'll get married. Please trust me." I stare at the screen and suddenly laugh. So what he wants isn't someone who loves him. It's someone who needs him. And I'm too independent, so I don't make the cut. That evening, I scroll through my contacts and find a number I've never given a second glance to. It belongs to someone who's been waiting for me for 23 years. I dial it. "Tomorrow night, 7:00 pm. Meet me at the restaurant by the sea."

During the holiday, a hashtag related to honeymoon trips goes viral on social media. The topic is, "How are you planning to spend your honeymoon?" One of the threads that has the most replies reads, "I have to bring my mistress along, of course." "Wow! That's crazy. Can you teach us how to pull that off?" I frown as I scroll down the thread and find the reply. "There are a lot of poor, female backpackers these days. As long as the mistress acts pitiful enough, you can pull the wool over your wife's eyes. And just like that, a couple's haven will become a world of three. "My wife and I will be going on our honeymoon trip tomorrow. I'll give everyone live updates in this thread." Feeling disgusted, I close the thread. … The next day, my husband, Sean Clifford, and I meet a poor, female backpacker on the road. She has no car, money, or any suitcases with her. Sprawling herself across the windshield, she begs, "Can you give me a ride, sir? I have blisters all over my feet. I can't walk anymore."

Shantelle Scott has been in love with Evan Thompson since she was young. When Evan's father arranged for her to be his wife, she willingly agreed, despite knowing it was against Evan's will. She devoted her life to him in their two-year marriage, forgetting her aspirations. She hoped her husband would love her back. Sadly, one day, Evan coldly said, "I want a divorce! I want you out of my life, Shantelle!" Years passed, Shantelle became a famous surgeon. When her ex-husband came to see her, he asked, "Doctor Shant, I need your expertise." "What is wrong with you, Mister Thompson?" She asked. Yearning reflected in the man's eyes as he suggested, "My heart is broken, and only you can mend it." Shantelle laughed and replied, "Mister Thompson, I am a doctor. I'm not God." *** There are two versions of the book. Old readers can access the old version in your library. Please scroll down. If you don't find it, kindly contact goodnovel (contact@goodnovel.com).

When I see someone asking for help in an assignment related to the entrepreneur course on the college forum, I join the group chat using a student account. I even help refine several financial models and market strategies because of my job's nature. Everyone in the group chat is excited, to say the least. Every day, they keep calling me a genius while urging me to improve the details of the whole assignment. Two months later, the assignment's quality is very close to perfection. But the group chat suddenly goes silent. I scroll through the chat history out of curiosity, only to find out that the students have already created another group chat. "That senior isn't an official teammate of ours. Let's not tell her about us using this assignment for an upcoming competition." "Precisely! Our names are the only ones on the list! She'd better not steal the credit during tomorrow's finals!" "With one less person involved, we each get an additional tens of thousands of dollars' worth of rewards!" As I look at the screen, I just let out a soft chuckle. It appears that this isn't an assignment at all. But unfortunately for these students, I happen to be one of the judges sitting at the judging station tomorrow.

The Sequel to this book will be posted here, so watch out and see how the Rejected Hybrid Ends.............. Just scroll down if you had finished the first Season.==== Elena Wolve was rejected and hated from birth. She is the daughter of the most powerful and well-known Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack, but then she was termed a demon. Why? Her birth caused the death of her mother through the most painful labor ever recorded. Not only that, she was born with two different colored eyeballs; one was blue, the other was red... Everyone, including her father, rejected her and treated her like a slave. It all got worse when her father, the Alpha, got another mate as his second Luna and had another son and daughter. Things got worse when she met her mate, only to find out that he was the son of her father's greatest enemy, Would he reject her or kill her instantly? Elena was left in the world of pain and rejection. No one knew who she really was, the secret behind her eyes, the power hidden in her, the kind of hybrid she was. All that was unknown till the day her pack was attacked and almost exterminated by the Demon clan, shockingly headed by the second Luna, who had been a Demon in disguise.

She was born to save bloodlines. Raised as Silver Star's first female Alpha Heir in three generations, Sabrina always knew what awaited her coming of age. Not a crown. Not a simple mate. A Harem — the males of her pack who had no mate waiting for them, chosen by duty, by tradition, and by the Goddess herself. Her word is law inside those walls. But the house built for her mates has sat empty for nearly two centuries, the traditions that govern it have been twisted beyond recognition, and not every male stepping forward is there for the right reasons. The Heart's Choice Scroll chose Riley before she could say his name out loud. Victor she chose herself. Then the letters started arriving. Three allied Alphas. Twenty-two additional males. Political agendas dressed up as goodwill, genuine desperation dressed up as diplomacy, and one rejection that left the Goddess's mark burned permanently into skin as a warning to anyone watching. Forty-seven males. One Luna. And a Harem house that hasn't seen life in nearly two centuries. She expected politics. She expected power games. She expected to manage it. She didn't expect chosen bonds to grow faster than fated ones. Duty was never supposed to feel like this.

I was ready to leave the Vampire Academy's main campus with Liam, my childhood sweetheart. All because he told me he was being bullied. He was the unrecognized bastard of the Vance clan. Born with a fraction of the power we pure-bloods commanded. So I promised him. I would go with him to Duskfall Academy. A campus that didn't care about bloodlines or power. A place where he could finally belong. But the night before we were supposed to seal the transfer scrolls with our blood signets, he betrayed me. I heard his friend's sneering voice. "You drank beast blood and faked the whole abuse act just to dump Isabella Thorne? Damn, Liam. That's cold-blooded." Liam just shrugged. "I'm sick of her pure-blood, high-and-mighty attitude. And this is cleaner than having her clinging to me forever." My world shattered. I turned and walked away. On the ancient transfer scroll, I took my dagger and slashed through the name of Duskfall Academy. Then I wrote the name my family always intended for me: Crimson Fortress Academy, in the Evernight. It seemed everyone had forgotten. Even as fated blood-bond mates, I, Isabella Thorne, am the sole pure-blood heir to the Thorne clan. Once I sever our ties, he can crawl back to me on his knees, and I wouldn't let him have a single drop of my blood. He'll be nothing.

After the SAT, I come across a post online. Someone posts, "If you could make a choice all over again, which major would you choose this time?" The comments are filled with people wishing they had chosen a different major. They all have their own regrets. One response stands out from the rest. "I would choose literature. That way, he and I wouldn't have missed out on the four years we should have spent together because of that unwanted baggage." I chuckle and am about to scroll past when I suddenly notice the profile picture and username. They are identical to those of my childhood sweetheart, Winter Andersen. I click into the profile. Everything matches her current account exactly, except that the age is ten years older. My heart sinks to my stomach. This has to be her ten years in the future. No wonder I am the only one celebrating when we are admitted to the same major. No wonder she zones out for so long after seeing my best friend, Simon Brown, receive his acceptance letter from the literature department. It turns out I am the unwanted baggage responsible for so many of her regrets and disappointments. Since that is the case, I quietly press "Accept" on the admission offer written entirely in a foreign language. I shall end this mistake ten years ahead of schedule.