Nothing Is Real Everything Is Permitted

Vera Lee, an introverted yet lonesome bibliophile who writes for a living, meets Jackson Young, her charming yet secretive next door neighbor on an online book auction of Stephen King's The Shining. The two enter into a last minute bidding war making Vera take matters into her own hands by convincing Jackson to give up. Vera's life changes when Jackson starts to make her heart flutter and race as their lives continue to intertwine. But the secrets he keep are holding her back. With the pandemic going on, is it even wise to enter into a relationship? For someone who's been alone her whole life, can she risk her heart in the middle of the pandemic?

My son is dead. He dies in a cramped toilet cubicle after having his skull smashed in. My husband, the school principal, arrives on the scene. The first thing he does is carry his true love's son, the one who killed my son, into an ambulance. They hurriedly leave. Before his death, my son tells me, "Don't cry, Mom. I'm not sad that Dad doesn't believe me. It's enough that you do…" I call Joshua Tucker during my son's funeral. He roars angrily, "Kenny had to get two stitches on his arm because of your son! If you keep pestering me like this, I'll beat him up when I get home!" My son? I look at the gaping hole in my son's head, the one that won't ever bleed anymore. I shut my eyes. Yes, he's my son. My son is dead, Joshua. From now on, there's nothing between us.

One month before my wedding to my boyfriend, he announced he wanted to have a child with his "first love." I refused, but he brought it up every single day. Two weeks before the ceremony, I received a prenatal checkup report. That’s when I discovered his so-called "first love" was already nearly a month pregnant. It turned out he’d never intended to seek my consent at all. In that moment, years of affection evaporated like smoke. So, I canceled the wedding, destroyed every trace of our memories, and on what should have been our wedding day, I walked into a closed-off research lab. From then on, he meant nothing to me.

Amerta is just a trash and satiation for Alpha Fred's power ego. Their meeting at that night, when Amerta was the only wolf left in the fire of her pack settlement which was brutally slaughtered, turned out to not be the end of Amerta's bad luck. After the death of her family, all members of her pack, even her mate, Amerta lived the life as an useless trash wolf in the Kingdom of Black Moon pack—Alpha Fred's power pack. Until when Alpha Fred realized the Moon Goddes reason sending Amerta from him, Amerta decided to leave him. He lost his wolf powers ahead of the big Red Moon Night war, and Amerta was no longer able to be his Luna. How could he fix the mess of his pack kingdom and bring back Amerta as his luna? When a dark secret known, everything turns out into broken pieces, will their love be repairable?

On the day my dad, the Don of the Capone family, comes to the orphanage to take me home, I show up in a tactical helmet and a bulletproof vest. "I'm not going home with you. You're definitely doing this to trick me into getting married to a perverted old geezer in a marriage alliance. I bet my adopted sister has made preparations to start fake-crying anytime by loading up on her eyedrops." My dad is amused, to say the least. "Why would any of that happen? Silvia is nothing but welcoming you to our home! Also, our family isn't a lowly organization that deals with human trafficking." But I refuse to believe my dad at all. On the way home, I keep typing something on my phone. My mom, the Donna, leans over curiously. "Are you writing a diary entry?" "Nope. I'm writing tips on 'How to Survive the Mafia.'" 1) My food will definitely be poisoned. 2) If I get close to a staircase, I'll definitely get pushed down the stairs. 3) I'll get framed for something that I've never done before. My parents swear to me that none of the things I've written will ever happen. They tell me that my adopted sister, Silvia Capone, has a great personality, and things are amicable in the family. However, everything changes when Silvia brings me a glass of juice before lunchtime and insists on watching me drink it. Instead, I dump the juice into a nearby vase of flowers. Just as my parents are about to scold me for wasting the juice, smoke begins drifting from the flowers inside the vase. Then, they start wilting rapidly. I calmly leave a bright red checkmark behind the "poison" tip. As my parents stare at the dead flowers, they can feel color draining from their faces. "You should send the juice to a chem lab for analysis."

Richard, a 49 year old widower with two daughters. Richard had spent his life devoting his time to his girls and to his work. Ava, a 23 year old girl from a countryside with little or no knowledge on how to survive in Bellamy- city of bright lights and dreams and fortunes. These two crossing paths could only be coincidental as they lead different lives with a huge age gap between. But, maybe they were waiting for each other all their lives to fill the gaps. It would take a lot to be together. But how much can one take? An angry girlfriend. A selfish daughter. They'll find out that love is never enough!

At my 25th birthday party, my childhood sweetheart got down on one knee, holding a diamond ring. "Diane, will you marry me?" I nodded, my eyes misty with tears, but just as I reached out, he slipped the ring onto my best friend's finger instead. The room went silent for a beat before erupting in laughter. "Just kidding!" Livio Becker laughed. "You didn't take it seriously, did you?" I forced a smile and looked over his shoulder at someone. "I bet he would propose tonight, and I was right. You lost the bet, so tomorrow we're getting married for real."

When my mother finally found the real heiress, she was on her knees selling shoes on the street. And to my surprise, I recognized her—she was none other than my fiancé's first love. Determined to oust me, the fake heiress, she played her part well, putting on a daily show to make me look bad. I was content to play along, enjoying our little game, until my fiancé’s offhand remark, “Was that really necessary?" shattered my composure. Fine, I thought, “You can keep this husband and family. I’ve got better things to do—like finding my real parents.”

Back when we were still in love, I heard from someone else that Charlie Grant had been getting unusually close to his secretary. He never offered an explanation. He let me dig for the truth on my own. Over the past five years, I quietly collected countless photos of them together—having lunch, leaving late-night meetings, even traveling for business—but none of them offered conclusive proof of cheating. Until the day he proposed to me. There was a giant screen set up. It was supposed to play a romantic video Charlie had prepared just for the proposal, but the screen suddenly cut to something else. A video of Charlie at a hospital, standing beside his secretary as she underwent a pregnancy check-up. In the video, the doctor clearly referred to Charlie as her husband… and the father of her child. His secretary burst into tears on the spot and apologized to me repeatedly. She sobbed as though she were the victim. Charlie, however, stood there with a cold expression and said flatly, "She's an unwed mother. She was helpless. I was just accompanying her for the checkup. The doctor must've misunderstood." Everyone braced for a dramatic scene. However, I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I only reached up and slowly removed the delicate flower hairpiece from my head. I set the hairpiece down. Then I looked Charlie in the eyes and spoke calmly. "You're right. It is sad that she’s pregnant and all alone. "This marriage proposal was meant for her. Not me." I gave a faint smile. "May you enjoy a blissful life. And… congratulations on the baby."

My husband, Malcolm Thorpe, has low sperm motility. After 33 rounds of IVF, I finally got pregnant. On delivery day, I start hemorrhaging, and the medical team calls for an emergency C-section. Malcolm signs the consent form, then rushes straight back to his childhood sweetheart's birthday party. But instead of starting the C-section, the surgeon says, "Ms. Jacobson, the electronic medical record lists you as single. This consent form isn't valid." I stop breathing for a beat. The happy marriage I believe in turns out to be a sham. Later, Mom and Dad rush in and sign the consent for me. But by then, the baby is gone. The asphyxia lasted too long. After surgery, I scrawl my name on the cremation consent with shaking hands, then dial a number without thinking. "Samuel, are you free now? Meet me in front of City Hall."