Novel & Cerita Not Mine

When nineteen-year-old engineering student Sky is scouted by Dream Entertainment, he thinks it’s a scam—until life throws him into financial uncertainty and he decides to take the leap. What starts as a desperate attempt to help his family quickly evolves into something far more complicated: a chance to star in a reality show where contestants pair up and compete for a coveted lead role in a new Boys’ Love (BL) series. Night, a successful but emotionally guarded model, isn’t the type to sign on for flashy reality shows—until he sees Sky’s casting photo and feels something he can’t explain. Against his manager’s advice and his own better judgment, he joins the project, drawn to the boy with the shy smile and uncertain eyes. Thrown into a house with six striking and wildly different contestants, Sky and Night are assigned roommates—others, not each other—and must navigate awkward first impressions, lip-sync battles, late-night conversations, and the growing tension between competition and connection. As the cameras roll and emotions blur, the question that hanging in the air: Is this just a path to fame in the entertainment industry—or is it something real? Is it all just for show?

Charles Dickson will transfer five million dollars to me every time he cheats. After three years of being together, I've saved enough money to last a lifetime. This time, he transfers ten million dollars to me. I immediately pack my things and make a run for it when I see the money in my account. By the time he tracks me down, I've started a career as a teacher. He looks disdainful. "Enough of this nonsense. What can you teach them?" I run my mouth. "I'm using my experience to teach young women how to find a rich, generous husband who's always away from home, of course!" That strikes a nerve. His eyes turn red with rage as he snaps, "Am I nothing but a teaching tool to you, Chloe?" "Of course not!" I say. Before he can feel pleased, I continue, "At most, you're a failed specimen because you always come home…"

The day of the verdict, Simon—my fiancé—begged me to take the deal. "I know you're innocent, but Nancy's pregnant. I can't let her go to jail." Tears. Fake concern. "This is for your own good," he said, holding my hand. I signed it. In my last life, I refused—and paid for it with prison, torture, and infertility. This time? I played along. By morning, headlines screamed I'd stolen trade secrets. Nancy? Front and center. "Yeah, it was her. I saw her sneak into Johnston Group with my own eyes!" But when court opened that afternoon, Clark—yes, the plaintiff—stepped up and dropped the case. Then, in front of everyone, he pulled out a ring, dropped to one knee, and said, "Heidi Wynn, this time... will you marry me?"

A week before the wedding, I got in a car crash. The baby was gone. They said my uterus was removed—just like that, motherhood erased. Grief hollowed me out. I was barely holding on when Jack's voice cut through the room, loud on speaker. "Jack, you put her on a birth control implant and lied about the surgery? That's messed up." His tone turned cold. "I can't let my child with Mary be seen as illegitimate. This is the only way to give him my name. As for Stella, I'll make it up to her for the rest of my life."

As I was about to leave my brother’s restaurant, the female manager stopped me. "Miss, excuse me, but you haven’t paid your bill." I looked at the unfamiliar face and thought that she was probably new and didn’t recognize me, so I explained politely, "Just put it on the owner’s tab. He knows me." The manager shot me a disdainful look. "Miss, this is a Michelin three-star restaurant. We don’t let just anyone run up a tab." She handed me a printed bill. I glanced at it. Fifty thousand dollars for one meal. Three thousand for tableware maintenance, five thousand for exclusive air purification, ten thousand for a VIP mood-calming service fee, and a bunch of other ridiculous charges. I didn’t even know my brother’s place was such a scam. I couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. "I’m the owner’s sister. If there’s a problem, tell him to talk to me at home." But she just wouldn’t drop it. "If you can’t afford it, stop acting like you can. And don’t act like you know Mr. White, either." I fired off a quick text to my secretary. 【Tell my brother to either fire this manager or I’m pulling my investment.】

A week before the wedding, my fiancé, Luke Graham, announced that he needed to marry his first love, Mandy Lynch, before marrying me. “It’s because her mother passed away,” he explained, “and her dying wish was to see Mandy married to a good man. I’m just fulfilling an elder’s final request. Don’t overthink it.” But the company had already planned to launch the “True Love” jewelry line on the day of our grand wedding. Impatiently, he dismissed my concerns: “It’s just a few million. Does that compare to Mandy’s love for her mother? If you’re so eager to make those millions, go find someone else to marry.” Hearing his cold and heartless words, I understood everything. Without another word, I turned and dialled my family. “Brother, help me find a new groom.”

[ The Fiction Awards 2019 Winner ••• Best Of Lgbt ] Steven turned back around and was headed to his room, he unlocked the door and went inside, just as he was about closing the door, he felt a push and David stepped into the room and clicked the door locked. Eyes back on Steven's like a predator about to pounce on its prey, one painful yet slow step and another he took, while the other stepped back until he was pressed against the wall. With no place to run to, Steven stopped. Eyes on David as he took his last step forward. "W-what are you doing?" "God, you're beautiful." "W-what." "I want to kiss you so badly that my heart burns from just the thoughts of it." "D-David." "Kiss me, Steven, please!" And kiss him he did... DAVID+STEVEN=BEST-FRIEND'S. DAVID IS MARRIED. STEVEN IS SINGLE. #BOY ROMANCE. WARNING: SAD ENDING.

I cradled Chloe’s newborn, filled with joy and affection. The baby was not blood of mine, yet as Chloe’s best friend, I would love and protect the little one with everything I had. "Sweet boy," I whispered, gently tapping the tip of his nose. "I'm your godmother. No one would ever hurt you." The hospital room was washed in golden afternoon light. Adrian stood by the window in a dark overcoat, his profile sharp against the glass. He looked exactly like the man the whole industry knew: controlled, elegant, untouchable. Hollywood's golden producer. My newlywed husband. Then he said, in a voice as flat as if he were discussing a contract, "He's not your godson. He's my son." For a second, I thought I had misheard him. Maybe I was just exhausted from the wedding, from the endless calls and fittings and congratulations. I almost laughed. But Adrian turned around. A cruel little smile curved his lips. "The child is mine," he said again. My arms tightened around the baby. "The night you got hurt," he went on, "I was with Chloe the whole night. We went through an entire box... apparently this little guy still found a way to arrive." I couldn't move. It felt as if ice water had been poured down my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. After a long silence, I finally managed to whisper, "But... we only registered our marriage yesterday." Adrian walked over and put an arm around my shoulders, almost gently. His tone was soft, but it carried the kind of condescension people used with a child throwing a tantrum. "Don't worry. Chloe and I were never going to get married. If I had wanted to marry her, I would have done it years ago." He paused, and something almost pleased flashed in his eyes. "Didn't Chloe ever tell you? We had a history. I was her first."

Marcello believed his life is perfect, he got a perfect job, a perfect wife, perfect house. What more could he ask for? Marc knew he had gotten everything good in life, Little did he know this was just the beginning of his mystery, an exodus of his his life shattering into tiny pieces. His only mistake was that he had come home early, too early.

After getting into an accident, I pretend to be an amnesiac to pull a prank on my husband and son. "Who are you guys?" I ask. A hint of delight flickers in my son's eyes. He pulls a woman waiting outside the hospital ward inside and says, "My parents and I came to visit you, ma'am." My husband watches all of this happen without saying a word. He doesn't correct our son.