Novel & Cerita Nietzsche Photos

Nyla believes she is the only child to her parents since her mom have never explain to her about her youthful life before her marriage to her father. Nyla is from a rich home, daughter to mr and mrs Harrison. Mrs Harrison got pregnant for a rich handsome mr Waylon at the age of 18, before her marriage with mr Harrison Nyla’s dad . Mr Waylon who was known for his physical looks and hardwork to earn a living was ready to get married to mrs Harrison. Mrs Harrison who’s name happens to be Serena gave birth to a baby boy and mr Waylon was happy and ready to do anything for Selena. However the pressure from friends regarding the benefits of social life made Serena abandoned her 3 months old baby in search of pleasure. Waylon had no option left so he had to take care of his baby KAI and and provided everything he could to make sure his baby stays alive. Mrs Harrison is now married to Mr Harrison and both have a beautiful and intelligent daughter by name Nyla. Nyla happened to come across a handsome looking young guy and falls in love with him. It’s not a doubt that this guy also falls for Nyla as they exchanged contacts and have been having conversations over the phone, swapping photos and doing video calls but little did they know that they’re were siblings. Nyla is engaged to Kai and she’s two months pregnant for him, both fiancé were happy to give the good news to their parents. Excitedly kai’s dad decided to visit Nyla’s parents for a proper recognition. Mr Waylon arrival caused tension and silence for a while before the truth unveiled itself. But what will happen to the pregnancy?

On my birthday, I passed out at home alone for more than two hours. My Alpha, Augustus Brock, took our son and went to an amusement park with Christine Terra, who had just severed her mate bond. Someone snapped photos of them, and the images went viral on social media. [Brock Pack's Alpha is enjoying a sweet family outing with his mate and heir. His Luna's face is revealed for the first time!] In the photo, Augustus held our child in one arm while wrapping the other around the woman beside him. My son, Ethan Brock, who had always been a neat freak and never let me touch him, had actually kissed that woman on the cheek. He was grinning from ear to ear. I lay on the floor. The harsh glow of my phone screen hurt my eyes. I then heard Augustus' voice through our mind link. "I'll celebrate your birthday with you next time. Christine just severed her mate bond and isn't in a good mood. I'm taking her out to cheer her up. Stop making a scene." Right after that, Ethan's voice followed through the mind link. "Mom, I want Christine to be my new mom! From now on, it's enough if you visit me once a month. If you come too often, she won't be happy about it." My phone buzzed. It was a message from an unknown number. [You know who he really loves. I've regained my freedom. If you know what's good for you, sever the mate bond yourself.]

On the day my CEO boyfriend, Benjamin West, and I go register our marriage, his manipulative female assistant, Chelsea Miller, suddenly hands over her own completed application to the clerk first. Just like that, the marriage certificate that is supposed to belong to me and Benjamin becomes one hers and his instead. Taken aback, I anxiously ask what is going on. But Chelsea suddenly drops to her knees dramatically and cries in despair, "Giselle, this is all my fault! My child needs a local address to enroll in school. If it hadn't been for that, I would never have resorted to a fake marriage with Benjamin." She even sobs inconsolably and threatens to smash her head against the wall so as to make it up to me with her death. Benjamin is usually clear-headed and can easily distinguish right from wrong. But this time, not only does he not defend me, but he even slaps me in public! He fumes, "Chelsea is a single mother. She's only doing this for her child. Do you really have to be so petty? It's just a marriage certificate. Once her child gets into school, I will divorce her. Can't we register our marriage a little later? Is it necessary to back her into a corner?" "Hurry up and apologize to Chelsea. Then, give half of your salary to her as compensation. If you cooperate, I can lend you the marriage certificate for Chelsea and me so you can take some photos and show off in the family group chat. Otherwise, forget about marrying me." I laugh humorlessly. "Then let's not register our marriage at all." Not only do I no longer want the marriage certificate, but I also don't want him anymore.

My mafia fiancé and I had planned to watch the World Cup together in the United States. But on the day of departure, I waited at the airport for three hours, and Giovanni never showed up. It was only when night fell that my phone finally rang. "Sorry, Bianca," he said, his tone as casual as ever. "I forgot to tell you. Carina was so excited to watch the World Cup, she couldn't sleep last night. So I took her ahead. We just landed." He paused for a moment. "You can make your own way here. We'll see you at the stadium tomorrow." I stood frozen. I had been looking forward to this World Cup for so long. We were supposed to take our wedding photos in Hawaii after the match. Yet with a single casual word from his childhood sweetheart, I was left behind. He had no idea that I had even turned down two major deals worth hundreds of millions just to be with him. After a long silence, I let out a soft laugh. "I don't want to go anymore. You two have fun." The next day, I came across Carina's social media post. In the photo, she stood arm in arm with Giovanni beside Messi, both of them smiling brightly. The caption read: "Thanks to Giovanni for getting me a photo with Messi! You never miss any important moment in my life." I calmly liked the post, then made a phone call. "Cancel the wedding in two weeks." I was done with this relationship. Time to go back to being a principessa.

…”Damn it, Klein! Am I a fool to you? You were with a woman last night! You were drunk! Both of you went to the hotel together. And now you stand there and tell me “something” came up! Is it normal for you, a married man, to go to a hotel with other women?” “How did you know?” “Is that all you have to say?” I looked at him disbelievingly. How can someone say such a shameless thing with a straight face? “Well since you asked, I’m going to tell you. When I rang your phone last night, that bitch was the one who answered. She friggin answered it just to show me she was with you. And your photos with her in the hotel are all over the Internet! That’s how I found out about your affair!” I’m breathing heavily by the time I’m done talking. Klein is staring at me with an unreadable expression. He must be shocked to the core. “First of all, Jasmine is a friend of mine and I prefer you call her in a more respectful way. Second, I was drunk and she only sent me to the hotel. That’s all. I’ll handle the photos. It won’t affect yours or the Conglomerate’s reputation. ”… **********************************************. Klein only realized he had feelings for his wife, Eloise, when she finally got sick of playing the part of an understanding wife in their arranged marriage after his ex-girlfriend showed up. Now he wants to make things right with his wife but it’s probably too late because she already filed for a divorce and wants nothing to do with him anymore. Will he succeed in winning her back or will she find love in another man’s arms?

On the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, all three of my fiancés showed up with the worst reports from their family-run businesses. My father had declared that I would marry the one who could bring the greatest benefit to our family. However, all three of them had already fallen for a penniless scholarship girl named Amelia Jones, and none of them wanted me. In my previous life, I kept them close, mentored them, and poured my resources into helping them rise. By the time they had each become powerful men in my family, they repaid me by framing my father, getting him arrested, and making him age more than 10 years overnight. He was dragged to prison. Me? They hired a crew of street thugs to brutalize me, leaving me to die while my private photos spread across the internet. As life slipped away, I heard their sneering voices: "Did you really think we ever liked you? Everything we did was for Amelia." "If you hadn't chained us to your side, we'd have married her long ago, we'd have a house full of kids by now!" "You and your father ruined her future. She couldn't afford college because of you. She had no choice but to jump!" Then I opened my eyes: reborn on the very day of my coming-of-age ceremony. I pulled my father aside, looked him in the eye, and said, "I'm an adult now. Throw them out. Strip them of every business and every asset we gave them." "I'm not choosing any of them. I chose Bruce Sullivan, the Don of the Sullivan family."

Growing up, my younger sister Nina was always the one my family loved most. She got the best room, the prettiest dresses, the first apology, and every gentle word my parents had to give. I was the older daughter, so I was expected to give in. Then I met Henry Vale. On the night he proposed, he held my hand and told me he would love me for the rest of his life. For the first time, I thought someone had finally chosen me. I thought I had found true love. Until the day I tried on my wedding dress. Nina said she wanted to come with me and help me choose. When I stepped out of the fitting room, I saw her standing in front of Henry, adjusting his tie like she was the one about to marry him. I was about to say, “Let me do it.” But the stylist had already walked toward her with a smile. “The bride, this way, please.” The photographer took ninety-nine photos that day. Every single one was of my sister and my fiancé. Not one showed me, the actual bride. My mother sat on the sofa and smiled. “Nina looks beautiful in white.” My father nodded. “More like a bride than Jocelyn.” Then the photographer lifted his camera and glanced at me from behind the lens. “Miss, could you move a little? You are blocking the light.” I stepped aside in silence and stood against the wall. In that moment, I finally understood. This wedding did not need me. And if the love Henry once promised me could be handed to someone else so easily, then leaving was the only dignity I had left.

My fiancee, Josephine Carter, tells me she is too busy with work to go home with me for Christmas just yesterday. But today, I find out that she has secretly booked a flight ticket to my hometown. I am delighted. Josephine has always been good at creating surprises during our relationship. I do not expect her to still be doing this now that we have practically been dating for years already. Just as I am about to tell my mom the good news, my stepbrother, Daniel Reed, suddenly announces in the family group chat that he is bringing his girlfriend home for Christmas as well. My relatives immediately start teasing him in the group chat, asking to see the beautiful lady. In the next second, photos of Josephine and him embracing like a couple appear in the chat. Daniel texts, "See? I told you she is gorgeous. Not only that, she's rich too." "Wow. You won the heart of such an amazing woman. That's impressive, Daniel." Daniel replies smugly, "Of course! She is totally in love with me." My breath catches in my throat, and the veins on the back of my hand bulge as I grip my phone. No wonder Josephine says she cannot come home with me after learning I am spending the New Year at my mother's place. She doesn't expect that we will run into each other. I close my eyes for a moment and send her one last message, "I have transferred back the 500 thousand dollars you asked me to manage for our wedding. It's over between us."

The day before the wedding, I go to the bridal shop to pick up my custom wedding dress. The clerk informs me apologetically, "I'm sorry, Ms. Stone. Yesterday, a woman called Ms. Lovelett came and picked up your dress." My best friend, Sherry Lancelot, suddenly remembers something. "Isn't that the surname of your fiance's secretary? He's so thoughtful. He had your dress picked up in advance for you." But in the next second, Mary Lovelett posts a social media update. In her photo, she is wearing my one-of-a-kind custom wedding dress that is worth hundreds of millions and posing coquettishly in front of the camera. The caption reads, "Zachary is the best boss in the world. I casually said I wanted to take some portraits. He generously bought me a globally limited outfit for a photoshoot so that I can take the photos to my heart's desire!" I look at the post and reply coldly, "That's the wedding dress I personally chose for myself. Since when did it become your photoshoot outfit?" The post is deleted instantly. My fiance, Zachary Everdon, calls me angrily. "What nonsense comment was that? I just lent your stupid dress to Mary for a bit. It's a cheap, one-time thing anyway. I can buy you a dozen more to make up for it." I let out a cold laugh and record the call. Then, I send him a screenshot of the 200 million dollars purchase record. I say, "Sure. Will you pay by check or by direct transfer? Hurry up. Once you pay, we're calling off the engagement."

I had been married to Derek for six years, and we had a three-year-old son. He was poor, earning only $2,000 a month, but I had no complaints; I took care of everything at home for him. After getting dinner on the table for the whole family, I finally had a minute to check my phone. A video popped up on my feed: a twenty-two-year-old girl from a rural area whose hands, roughened by years of hard labor, looked like they belonged to a sixty-two-year-old woman. I looked down at my own hands, just as worn and scarred, and stared at them blankly before tapping into the comments. I expected people to feel bad for her. However, to my surprise, the comments section was flooded with a single sentiment: "Why would anyone marry a penniless loser?" One of the top-liked comments came from a couple; in their photo, they were pictured holding hands—fingers tightly intertwined—with the girl sporting a massive diamond ring. The accompanying caption read: "A man who truly loves you would never bear to let you suffer." I felt a pang of envy. Given the choice, who wouldn't want a glamorous life? As I was about to close the app, I accidentally tapped on the couple's photo, enlarging it. In the background, previously too blurry to make out, was a face I recognized. It looked exactly like my husband, Derek Sterling. I froze, and almost against my will, I tapped into the account's profile. Post after post of lavish photos of them together flooded my screen. And then I saw him clearly. The scar above his brow, the one he got when a shelf fell on him while protecting me, was still plainly visible. It was my husband. It was Derek.