November Ninth

Pada tanggal 11 November, asisten polos dan lugu tunanganku menjual berlian satu karat seharga satu sen. Dalam waktu singkat 20 menit, perusahaan merugi 400 miliar. Aku gemetar karena marah, sementara Arvino memelukku dan menenangkanku, "Jangan khawatir, serahkan hal ini padaku." Namun, malam itu, Lunaria Sasmaya mengunggah di IG Story tangkapan layar transfer sebesar 3 miliar dan menuliskan keterangan: [Hari ini aku melakukan kesalahan besar, tapi bos malah menghiburku. Dia juga berpesan supaya aku tidak marah pada harimau betina dan harus patuh ya.] Aku berkomentar di bawahnya: [Semoga langgeng.] Lunaria langsung menghapus postingan itu. Tiba-tiba Arvino Satya menerobos masuk dan menamparku dengan keras. "Dengan niat apa kamu menyukai postingan Lunaria? Dia sekarang sampai malu dan mencoba bunuh diri!" "Cuma rugi 400 miliar saja, perlu kamu desak dia sampai tak bisa hidup lagi?" Arvino berbicara dengan nada penuh pembenaran, seolah berada di pihak yang benar dan tanpa rasa takut. Namun, kemudian saat bahkan uang 40 ribu untuk makan pun tak mampu dia keluarkan, kenapa dia malah menangis?

On the ninth year after our bonding ceremony, my mate, Alpha Kyle Burns, finds himself hopelessly in love with Ivy Cline, an Omega who's taken in as a prisoner of war from a pack that has been conquered by the Silver Moon pack. Ivy is supposed to be a lowly prisoner, and yet she often keeps her head high in an arrogant manner. One time, she kicks the things gifted to her by Kyle into a puddle in front of everyone else. "I might be a prisoner, but I refuse to become a traitor who clings to wolves of power for survival! You can keep your disgusting charity act to yourself!" Those are the exact words that have Kyle wrapped around Ivy's little finger. In order to conquer the wild-spirited Ivy, Kyle personally severs the mind-link that he has maintained with me for the past nine years. He completely disregards the fact that I'm his fated mate as well as the most reverent Luna of the pack. But he most likely has forgotten the blood curse my father, who was also the former Alpha of the pack, asked the witch to place on him. If Kyle and I don't head over to the Moon Goddess' altar to extend our bond once ten years are up, the curse will take effect. That's when the mate bond between us will be completely severed.

George Milton took me eight times in a single night. By the ninth, his hand gripped my waist, his voice rough with satisfaction as he rasped, "Baby, I want you to use that innocent-but-sexy look you've got to go seduce Jordan." My entire body went rigid. Then I found out—George's first love, Sarah Byrnes, had been ditched by Jordan Baker, leaving her heartbroken. He wanted me to take revenge for her, to make Jordan taste the agony of being abandoned by the one he loved. After my family had gone bankrupt, I was delivered straight to George's bed. Naively, I believed he treated me differently. After all, I had been the woman at his side the longest. But he only sneered. "The reason I keep you is because you look like Sarah. She's hurting. Now it's your turn to do your part. With reddened eyes, I agreed, swallowing every foolish hope I should never have harbored. Soon, I captured the aloof and untouchable Jordan's heart. And for the first time, George lost control. He wept as he begged, "Catelyn, I regret it. Come back to me, please?"

In my ninth year of being with Tyler Freeman, he flaunts his relationships with other women while I'm only allowed to come and go from his bedroom. He doesn't acknowledge me as his girlfriend, yet he allows his friends to address me as such. I have a name but not an identity. His friends are bored during a private party and want me to perform a strip dance on stage to liven things up. I expect Tyler to at least turn them down on my behalf, but all he does is sip his wine and say, "Go on. You're the owner of this place, aren't you? Aren't clubs supposed to satisfy their patrons' needs? Don't let my friends down!" I look at him emotionlessly. I don't cry or throw a fuss. Instead, I splash a glass of liquor in his face. The following day, I trash the club. Three months later, Tyler finally thinks of calling me. "Where are you? Aren't you gonna get the hell back here? Do you really expect me to beg you to come back? Do you think you're worthy of that?" I pull my newlywed husband to the camera. "Sorry, Mr. Freeman. I'm getting married. You don't need to come, but do get me a wedding gift." Unexpectedly, he threatens to show my husband intimate videos of me when he sees me in a wedding gown.

Autumn Dawson had only ever loved one man, Ivan Ashton, her husband. For twelve years, she devoted her life to him, only to have her heart shattered when he married her sister on their 11th anniversary. Shortly after, she met a mysterious death and was reincarnated three years before her demise. This time, she vowed things would be different. On their ninth anniversary, when Ivan brazenly introduced his mistress for the first time, Autumn refused to remain silent. No longer the mute dog wagging her tail at her husband's call, she stood up, her eyes blazing with fury. "I want a divorce," she declared, her voice resonating with newfound strength. The room fell silent, the shock evident on both Ivan's and her sister's faces. For the first time, Autumn wasn't backing down. She had had enough, and she was determined to seek revenge on every single person who had wronged her in her past life. But as she prepared to walk away, Ivan grabbed her arm, his eyes filled with desperation. "I want a second chance," he pleaded. Autumn's eyes narrowed, her resolve hardening. "Over my dead body," she spat, yanking her arm free. This time, Autumn Dawson wasn't just fighting for herself. She was ready to take down anyone who dared to stand in her way.

My marriage certificate with Shane Galingston was lost again. By the time we went to replace it for the ninth time, his childhood sweetheart deliberately raised her voice as she said, "Lily has been divorced eight times and has had nine abortions. She also has AIDS and syphilis… practically every vice in the book. Did you know all that?" With a loud crash, a newlywed couple sitting nearby was so startled that they fell to the floor, groaning in pain. In an instant, contemptuous and disgusted gazes poured in from all directions, pinning me in place. The icy slime of rotting refuse dripped down my face, chilling not just my skin but my heart as well. This time, I didn't hold back. I turned and walked straight toward the complaint counter. But Shane, who had stayed silent all along, suddenly grabbed my arm. He wiped the filth from my face and coaxed me in a low, gentle voice. "Don't be angry. She's just childish—she likes to fool around. She didn't mean to smear your name. "Besides, she's not targeting you. She's just throwing a tantrum at me. How could I not know what kind of person you are?" As he spoke, he shot his childhood sweetheart a helpless yet indulgent glance. "Go ahead and help us reissue—" I pushed his hand away without expression and cut him off. "No need. Let's get a divorce."

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not raise my voice, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply picked up my packed suitcase and walked to the door. The butler tried to stop me, but Damian did not even blink. “She’ll come back.” He lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “She’ll come back crying and begging within three days.” Our guests burst out laughing. They placed a million-dollar bet right in front of me. They were betting on whether I would be back before the night was over, begging Damian to let me back in like a pathetic stray dog with my tail between my legs. However, they did not know I had already received the family heirloom from my real father. I booked my flight to get far, far away from everyone I used to know. This time, I really left.

My husband had a severe addiction for physical intimacy. However, in the seven years of our marriage, he never touched me, not even once. To suppress his urges, he soaked himself in bone-chilling ice water every night. His arms were covered in needle marks from constant injections. It broke my heart to see him like that. I offered myself to him many times, but he insisted on simply giving me a restrained kiss on the forehead before saying, “Don’t be silly, Summer. I’m not like those animals. How could I ever bear to hurt you? For you, I’d gladly live the rest of my life in a platonic marriage.” This strange, almost obsessive restraint of his lasted seven years. Despite the numerous times he pushed himself far enough to end up hospitalized, he still refused to cross that line. Then, on our wedding anniversary, a young woman named Anna Brandt came in for her ninth hymen restoration surgery. After the anesthetic was administered, her cheeks flushed red. As her mind grew hazy, she started crying weakly like a lost kitten. Looking at the love bites scattered across her body, I shook my head and assumed she was just another girl who had gone astray. That was until I heard her last tearful whisper. “John Shaw, you jerk.” My hand trembled and I nearly dropped the scalpel. Because my husband’s name also was John Shaw.

WARNING; This story contains mature contents not suitable for readers under 18 and may be triggering to others. Dark themes like BDSM, dub con, drug abuse and human trafficking and others are mentioned. It has a happy ending, but the journey will not be a pretty fairytale that's why it's dark romance. If you choose to read further, please don't complain and I hope you enjoy my story. Thank youuu!!! * All she wants is a better life, but she keeps going from frying pan to fire. From an abusive father, to a human trafficking syndicate just to find her lost sister. A man whose name was whispered in fear among the most feared becomes her saviour. Their only history was a night of no holds barred pleasure after she was rescued by him in a dirty alley on a cold November night. He says he’s not a hero, and everyone calls him dangerous. But he was the only safety she had ever known. ~ "I want you on my bed at all times, always ready for pleasure. I want you to only think about how good I make you feel, and I want you to scream my name so loudly you’ll lose your voice. That’s what makes me a villain. I want everyone to hear and know that you’re mine, only mine. I am not a hero, and you don’t need a hero. A hero would sacrifice you for the greater good, I would burn the world for you. All you need to do is ask.”

This is the ninth year Dante and I have honored the Month of No Masters. The Corinni family's heir apparent believes this will make our relationship last longer. For one month after our dating anniversary each year, he is free, and we stay out of each other's lives. If either of us finds someone more suitable, we are to wish them well. If not, we go back to the way things were after a month. Around me, the men of the family are spraying champagne with abandon. "To another year of freedom! Congratulations to our Underboss on reclaiming his bachelor status!" "The family betting pool is open! Place your bets on the left if you think they'll still get married, and on the right if you think it's over for good!" Through the hazy cigar smoke, I sat on the corner of a leather sofa, a cold observer, as if this whole farce had nothing to do with me. Dante's hand was curled around Scarlett's waist as he brushed past me, whispering, "Don't get any ideas. You'll always be my only Donna." "I'm a kite. No matter how far I fly, the string is always in your hand." I pressed my cold fingers against the gentle swell of my belly, my expression a blank mask. Dante, this time at the family's betting table, I'm putting my money on "the end." I'm going to vanish from your world completely. That kite string you're so proud of? Tonight, I'm cutting it myself.