Ninja Table

"How can I marry a man I do not know?" "Your father is the one who decides what can happen." "Why do I have to marry him?" "Your father wants to do business with him, and it is so much that it would take us from top twenty to top ten." Nirelle’s fate is sealed. After a life of endless scrubbing, suffering, and silence, her father decides her worth lies in securing a business deal. A deal so massive, it promises to thrust their family into elite status—at the cost of her freedom. Married off to a man cloaked in more secrets than the night sky, Nirelle wants to run. But there's nowhere to go. With every ounce of strength she has left, she chooses to shift prisons—from her father’s oppressive home to her new husband’s mansion. Lucien Vexley is nothing like she expected. The name alone strikes fear on the streets, the rumours painting him as a shadowy, ruthless enigma. Yet the man sitting across from her at the dining table, caring for her in ways she’s never known, is nothing like the beast they described. Lucien is a mystery she can’t seem to solve, and worse, he is her father's enemy. "You are handsome?" "It seems you were expecting me to be a beast?" "Well, according to the rumours," "Am I not here as a scapegoat for something?" Nirelle doesn’t understand the warmth beginning to stir in her chest, the way her stomach flutters when he's near. But something is changing. Something deep. Something dangerous. And she can't help it when she wants to join hands with him to take her father down. Sold to My Father's Enemy is a revenge tale that would keep you at the edge of your seats.

I took my gun beside the table and playing it with my bear hands. I'm eager to kill the assh*le who is now kneeling in front of us but my dear brother said that he should suffer first before we gonna kill him. "Now assh*le, I'm going to ask you for the last time. Who ordered you to kill us?" My Brother said while he pointing his gun on the forehead of the assh*le. "I WILL NEVER ANSWER YOUR QUESTION EVEN IF YOU KILL ME." The assh*le shout right on the face of Clay, which cause Clay to get mad and give him a hard punch on the stomach. "Ouchie! If I we're you I'm gonna tell him who's behind of killing us before my dear husband get angry." Suzanne Medina the wife of Clay. "You don't know me when I'm angry." Clay get a dagger and slice the face of the assh*le. "ARRGGHHH!" The assh*le keep screaming everytime Clay slice every part of his body. I smile a devilished one. That's my dear brother wants. Torturing his prey. But I have a short temper. *BANG!* "Sharp shooter, baby." I'm pointing my gun to Suzanne. I don't want to call a baby. "Easy dear sister." She hang her two arms in the air. She surrender. "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!" Anger is written all over the face of Clay as he turned to me. "Tss." The damaged has been than and we could do nothing to turn back the time. "Short tempered as always, my dear sister." He about to put his arm when I grab it and put it on his back. "Easy dear sister. I'm kidding." He said.

I was the girl no one noticed. Until I opened File Case No. 0001. Azrael Atlas St. Claire. They call him “The Architect.” A ghost. A cold-blooded killer. A man so dangerous the FBI can’t touch. His death would shatter the economy. Rival syndicates would burn the city to kill him. He has no weakness. Then he found me. He appeared in my archive and vanished without a trace. The next morning, gifts started appearing on my nightstand. First, a bullet coated in dried blood. Second, ten fingers belonging to the man who touched me. He watched. Followed. Stalked my every move. Then one night, he came through my window. He took what he wanted while I floated in haze. I woke up sore, terrified…and craving for more—needing for more. The FBI saw a fracture in me, and decided to weaponize it. They wired me. Made me their spy with a promised I’d be safe if I helped them cage the monster. Yet, at the first sign of blood, they ran. Leaved me in chaos. He stayed. Now, I lived in his world. My mother thinks the lawyer at her table is a kind stranger. She didn’t feel his hand between my thighs underneath. She doesn’t know he’s been sculpting my life for years, long before we ever met. The FBI wants me to betray him. His enemies want me dead for revenge. But the monster who stole my life? He’s the only one who ever truly saw me. And I’m starting to wonder if that makes me just as dangerous as him. They say there’s a line between the victim and the villain. I don’t think I’m on the right side anymore.

One of Ethan Sterling's closest friends got drunk and humiliated me. Called me a nobody orphan who married above her station, said I'd never be accepted by the Sterlings, that I wasn't fit to sit at their table. Ethan smashed a bottle over the man's head. He announced in front of everyone that if anyone ever disrespected me again, he'd make them pay. When I was pregnant and the morning sickness was so brutal I couldn't keep anything down, he went and scheduled a vasectomy. He didn't want me to suffer through another pregnancy. This was a man who loved me like I was his whole world. And yet — when I was lying on the operating table about to give birth, he was standing right in front of me with his arms around Iris, putting on a show for anyone watching. Iris was the daughter of another old-money family and she'd donated bone marrow to save Ethan's mother's life. The night before her own engagement, her fiance betrayed her, and the trauma wiped her memory clean. Now the only thing she knew for certain was that Ethan Sterling was her husband. In her world, I was the homewrecker — the scheming woman using the bastard in her belly to force her husband into a divorce. Ethan promised me it was all an act. Just repaying the debt for his mother's life. Once Iris recovered, he'd walk away from her immediately. But when I picked up the surgical consent form for him to sign, and his first instinct was to pull Iris behind him — to shield her — I knew. His heart had already drifted off course. The fairy tale of a Cinderella marrying into high society was over. Time to wake up.

Nia Ravanore found her mate at eighteen years old...... Alpha Dalton Howley and everything was perfect. But after six months of being together, she found him cheating with the Beta's sister, her supposedly friend. This was on the day of her Dad's funeral. It was the same day she learned how her father truly died and the same day that Dalton rejected her. - The lot abused her and forced her out of the pack. Anger, bitterness and hatred brewed in her heart, concocting a deadly agenda. Then she met the sexy Greek god, Lykoan Volkes. Mr. Mysterious and possessive who craves for the sparks they could create in his bed. Well, Nia's done with mates ― period! Tough for him! - When Dalton eventually comes begging for forgiveness and explains why he cheated on her, will Nia ever learn to forgive Dalton or will she move on to someone else? - Will it interfere with her plans for revenge? What choice will she make when Lykoan and Dalton are both hellbent on possessing her? - Find out in Dark Obsession for the Rejected Luna! - “Nia,” Lykoan cooed, lifting me from the table in a warm embrace. - Drained and defeated, I lean against him. - “When I come home, this is how I want to find you in my bed…fragrant and flavorful and begging for me…and when I finally let you have my dick, you'll have it over and over to the point where you'll be begging for me to stop." - A purr emanated from his throat. - Breathing slowly, I blinked wearily at him. - He chuckled, raking over the hair from my face. “For now, think about what makes you wet for me…think about why you cum for me…think about how you crave me…and dream of me while you sleep.”

I was his one weakness. Don Alex, the king of New York. And I was his queen. But days before our child was due, I was thrown into the Dockside Deathmatch—a cruel game broadcast for the underground world’s entertainment. The bullets flew, hidden traps lay in wait, and my every terrified, pathetic attempt to survive was broadcast live on giant screens. Then, I heard his second-in-command on the loudspeaker. "Boss, your wife's about to pop. You sure you wanna be here?" I froze. Alex was here? A moment later, a woman’s sugary voice dripped through the speakers. "Forget that bitch. Alex told me the only thing that mattered today was being here with me. Right, honey?" It was Scarlett. The Chicago Outfit's princess. Alex's childhood sweetheart from Chicago, a woman he had always pampered and shown a distinct bias towards. He had turned down her advances for years, but he never refused her whims. Today, she was in a bad mood and insisted on watching the deathmatch, so he was here to keep her company. I screamed for Alex, begged him for help, but he was convinced I was an assassin in disguise. Because Scarlett laughed and said the game needed to be more exciting. So he pressed the button. Vicious patrol dogs hunted me. My water broke, mixing with blood on the ground. I was in agony. The game hit its climax as more dogs and gunmen closed in from all sides. Everyone was betting on who would be the next to die. Alex smiled, his voice a low, careless drawl, "I’ll bet on that filthy pregnant woman to die." He didn't know the truth until I bled out on an operating table, our child dead with me. They say the ruthless Godfather shattered. Broke completely.

When the bank calls me to collect the first round of mortgages from me, do I realize that my wife, Denise Sheridan, also the same woman who eats leftovers and saves every single penny with me in our daily lives, has bought my brother-in-law, Dmitri Sheridan, two prime mansions located near a school. While Dmitri is placed as the mansion deed holder, I'm the one who's supposed to clear off the mortgages. I hurl the purchasing contract to the floor in fury. "You said Nancy's leukemia requires a shit ton of money, so I've been saving up my whole life. I even went as far as to work ten jobs per day! "My dad had to sell his kidney in exchange for a term of Nancy's chemotherapy bills because you told me the money wasn't enough at all. But thanks to the shady hospital, he died on the surgical table! "And yet, now you've used the money that Dad and I had put our blood, sweat, and tears into earning to buy mansions for Dmitri! Do you even have a conscience?" "What happened to your dad was destined to be! Sure, we could always make more money if we have more treatment bills to cover, but Dmitri's case is different! He urgently needs money for his marriage!" Denise refutes in a righteous way. I'm about to lash out at her when my daughter, Nancy Sheridan, rushes out. "Dad, Uncle Dmitri is the hope of our family! I don't mind giving him money to spend!" At that moment, I finally realize that not only am I this household's ATM, but my own daughter is also an ingrate through and through.

To ensure fairness, my daughter said that she would draw lots to choose whose family to spend the New Year’s with every year. However, for the past nine years, she had spent the New Year’s with her in-laws. The latest draw was no different. On New Year’s Eve, my daughter gave me specific instructions. “Mom, we’re spending the New Year’s with my in-laws. We’ve made a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in town. Please help me save some money. You can just make some food at home for your dinner.” Hence, on New Year’s Eve, I ate alone while watching TV at home. When I stood up, I accidentally knocked over the raffle box. All the lots inside the box had my daughter’s handwriting. The words ‘in-laws’ were clearly written on every single one of them. For the past ten years, the lots had been fake. My daughter was willingly spending the New Year’s celebration with her in-laws, and she had never once thought of spending it with me, her biological mother, who had spent so much money on her. At the same time, I got a notification on my phone. Her mother-in-law posted something on social media. [My daughter-in-law is so lovely. She bought me so many gifts and chose to spend the New Year’s with us. It’s as if she’s our own daughter!] They smiled brightly in the video. On the table were gifts that she bought using my retirement fund. I did not sleep for the whole night. The next morning, I called the bank. “Please remove all the auto-debit accounts from my retirement account.” From then on, I would only spend my money on myself.

"Walang magmamahal sa 'yo, Anna!" 3 sa pamilya ni Jared Mendez, kabilang ang pinakamamahal nitong ina ang namatay dahil sa isang pagkakamali ni Anna, ten years ago. Ang galit na yon, dinala ni Jared sa matagal na panahon. Kaya nang makakita ito ng pagkakataong gumanti sa kanya, inakala niya na buhay niya ang hihinging kapalit.  Pero hindi. "Be my bedmate if you want to save Catherine’s life. I will shoulder her medical bills and your organization will be funded." Kapit sa patalim, tinanggap niya ang offer at inangkin siya ni Jared sa ibabaw mismo ng table nito. Hindi lang yon, isinama siya nito pabalik sa bayan nila sa San Luis kung saan maraming tao ang  nagtatangka sa buhay niya. Sabagay, ano ba ang inaasahan niya sa lalaking nagpayaman nang husto para lang gawing miserable ang kanyang buhay? ************* Simula't sapul, pangit ang reputasyon ni Anna, alam yon ni Jared. Baliw lang ang lalaking gugustuhin ito dahil mas malala pa yon sa suicide. She's a ruthless seducer, a killer and the Lady Boss of an organized crime syndicate. Pero bakit sa kabila ng lahat, wala siyang ibang pinangarap sa gitna ng kama niya at makakasama sa  buhay niya kundi si Anna? Posible bang sa kabila ng matinding galit, ang totoo ay mahal niya ito gaya nang pagkabaliw niya dito noon? May lugar ba ang pagpapatawad sa mga taong nahubuhay sa matinding galit, kawalang pag asa at paghihiganti?

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.