Novel & Cerita Nick Clark Death

I took my last breath when his hatred for had reached it's peak. I chose to take my own life, when I could no longer bear the wait of his hatred When my ashes was handed to Leo, my mate, he smiled and patted it. He was pleased I had finally died. “Filthy thing. She should’ve died a death more painful than this,” he said as he tipped the urn sending it crashing to the ground. He believed I had killed his first love. Despite all our years together, he was waiting for this moment to get his revenge. The air carried my ashes as he stepped over them and walked away. But not long after he returned in regret begging to have me returned to him.

Two of New York’s most powerful Cosa Nostra dons, Vincent Luciano and Nick Valentino, made a brutal wager over me. The terms were simple: whoever won my heart first would win the right to marry Seraphina Moretti, the sole heir to the Moretti crime syndicate. The ruthless Vincent swept me into his Fifth Avenue penthouse, lavishing me with luxuries all of New York would kill for. Cold, reserved Nick played the lovesick fool, kneeling beneath the moonlight over the Hudson to swear he’d give me a safe life, free from this world’s bloodshed and chaos. I said yes. But the second we stepped into Vincent’s oak-paneled study, Nick’s warmth turned frigid. “Vincent, we had a deal. I’ve won the Moretti marriage.” In my past life, I was discarded by both men, betrayed by my family, and left to die of a forced heroin overdose. Now I’ve been reborn. And this time, I still said yes to Nick’s proposal... But everything would be totally different.

When the criminal tortured me to death, I was three-month pregnant. But my husband Mark - the city's most prominent detective - was at the hospital with his first love Emma, accompanying her for her medical checkup. Three days ago, he demanded me to donate my kidney to Emma. When I refused, telling him I was two months pregnant with our child, his eyes had turned cold. "Stop lying," he had snarled. "You're just being selfish, trying to let Emma die." He pulled over on the dark highway. "Get out," he ordered. "Walk home since you're so heartless. " I stood there in the darkness and was kidnapped by the vengeful criminal, whom Mark had once imprisoned. He cut out my tongue. With cruel satisfaction, he used my phone to call my husband. Mark's response was brief and cold: "Whatever it is, Emma's medical checkup is more important! She needs me right now." The criminal let out a dark chuckle. "Well, well... Seems like the great detective values his ex's life more than his current wife's." When Mark arrived at the crime scene hours later, he was horrified by the brutality inflicted on the corpse. He angrily condemned the murderer for treating a pregnant woman so cruelly But he didn't recognize that the mutilated body before him was his own wife - me.

Prince Alex Windsor was born to rule. Duty, tradition, and a royal engagement bind his future, until Nick Peters storms back into his life. The rebellious son of a billionaire with presidential ambitions, Nick was Alex’s first love, his greatest secret, and the one person he was never meant to see again. But fate has other plans. A drink kiss reignites their buried desires, thrusting them into a whirlwind of passion, scandal, and betrayal. As powerful enemies conspire to tear them apart, from blackmailers to assassins, Alex must make an impossible choice: his crown or his heart. With the world watching and the monarchy at stake, can Alex and Nick defy the odds and claim their own destiny? Or will duty, deception, and a past that refuses to die keep them apart forever?

To save her first love, who suffered from uremia, my wife, who was a judge, used her influence to pressure the hospital into awarding one of my kidneys to him. I explained to my wife that I had kidney failure. Transplanting another kidney would mean certain death for me. However, my wife yelled at me in disgust, “His illness is serious, and you’re still acting jealous and competing for my attention? Do you even have a heart?” With the lawyer she hired, she won a court ruling that sent me to the hospital for the kidney transplant. In the end, my kidney failure worsened. I died alone in a forgotten corner of the hospital.

Five years after my death, my wife, Charlotte Blake, once again asks me to take the fall for Leo Cane, her first love, in his drunk driving case. She barges into my home with fabricated evidence but finds no trace of me anywhere. Left with no other choice, she knocks on my neighbor's door. My neighbor tells her something unexpected. "Shane Foster? He's been dead for a long time. I heard the victim's family from the case he was convicted for wasn't satisfied with the verdict. "They abducted him the day he got out of prison and tortured him for three days straight." Charlotte refuses to believe it. She furiously accuses me of making up any lie to escape responsibility. She storms at the neighbor, shouting, "You think I don't know Shane paid you to cover for him? "Tell him there's no use in hiding. If he doesn't contact me within three days, he won't get a single cent of child support for that bastard." But she doesn't know that the person Leo killed in that drunk driving accident is the very "bastard" she keeps referring to.

"Nyla, stop being dramatic. Raise Jordyn's baby, and I'll come home for dinner once a month." Those were the terms Clark Summer offered his wife after she discovered his affair. When Nyla demanded a divorce, Clark laughed in her face, treating her pain like a childish tantrum. "You love me too much to leave," he scoffed, convinced she was nothing without him. He was wrong. Nyla didn’t just leave; she leveled up. She walked into a bar and set her sights on Damon Summer—Clark’s estranged, ruthless, and terrifyingly handsome uncle. Clark is losing his grip on the company and his sanity, consumed by jealousy as he watches his "boring" wife shine beside his powerful uncle. He stands in the rain, begging for a second chance, but Nyla only has one question left for him: "You chose the mistress. Why are you crying now that I’ve chosen someone else?"

In the third year of my relationship with Aden, he died in a war between werewolf packs. His beta twin brother, James, brought back the obsidian pendant that Aden had dropped on the battlefield. He told me in a choked voice, “Emily, Aden isn’t coming home.” I fainted on the spot. After waking up, I went mad and tried to go to the battlefield to die with Aden. However, James held me back. Later on, I attempted suicide multiple times, only to be saved by James and his mother, Louise. All the werewolves in Moon Forest Pack said that Aden and I were deeply bonded. It was not until the third month after Aden’s death that I finally discovered the one who died wasn’t him at all.

After the most wanted bachelor in Renowoods, Marvin Chambers, lost his memory, he began to pursue me relentlessly. I dated Marvin for three years and fell hopelessly in love with him. Just when I was about to tell him I was pregnant, I overheard a girl who used to bully me say to him, "Thanks for pretending to lose your memory and pulling 99 pranks on Serena just to avenge me. "Once you hit 100, I'll be your girlfriend." That was when I finally understood—Shirley Hunt was the one Marvin had always loved. And I was just the fool he used to make her laugh. Later, I died in a plane crash. Marvin lost his mind searching through the wreckage, only to find a single ring. Inside, it was engraved: [Hope You'll Love Me After 100 Pranks]. They say he collapsed crying in the debris and had to be rushed to the hospital after passing out. When he woke up, he turned against everyone who had helped him prank me. Meanwhile, I stood smiling in the snowstorm of Frontania, watching as my medical records went up in flames. He had faked amnesia to win my heart, so I faked my death to teach him a lesson.

I died on the day I won the Global Medical Doctorate Award. Fresh from celebrating the sixteenth birthday of my younger sister, my parents, brother, and my fiancé finally returned home, but it was three hours after my death. My family photos were beaming with happiness on social media, while I laid in the suffocating basement drenched in blood. Before I died, I had struggled to slide my tongue across my phone screen in a desperate attempt to call for help. My parents and brother had blocked my number. Only my fiancé answered my call. The moment his voice came through, he snapped, "Winona, Winnie's sixteenth birthday is important. Stop trying to hijack attention with your pathetic excuses. Enough with the theatrics!" It murdered my last spark of survival. In that electronic death rattle, my heart flatlined. The 100th time they chose her. The 100th time they abandoned me for her. But it was also the last time. They thought I had ran way to get their attention again, and that if they taught me a harsh lesson, I would come crawling back pathetically. But not this time. Because I didn't leave home. I had been lying in the basement of my house.