O'block

In eight years together, my boyfriend—Shayne Raffield—blocked me eighty-eight times. This time? Because I missed his call. At my best friend's birthday party. Usually, I'd panic-order a gift, then stand outside his office, head down, ready to beg. But today? I blocked him first. The Chat Feed popped up, loud as ever: [Nooo, Ley-Bae, don't block Shay-Shay! He's just got abandonment issues. Comfort him!] [Shay's heart = shattered; Eyes = red. Ley, go! One pout and he's yours again!] Then Shayne called. Didn't say a word. Just breathed for ten seconds and hung up. The Chat Feed freaked out. [AHHHH SHAY LOVES LEY SO MUCH HE JUST SUCKS AT SAYING IT. THIS COWARD'S GONNA LOSE HIS GIRL.]

Ivan hanyalah penulis thriller biasa yang sedang mengalami kebuntuan ide (writer's block) parah. Namun, laptopnya tidak pernah berhenti bekerja. Setiap kali Ivan terbangun dari tidur yang tidak nyenyak, ia menemukan bab-bab baru di dokumennya. Bab-bab yang tidak pernah ia ingat telah ditulisnya. Bab-bab yang menceritakan kejahatan Agnia—tokoh fiksi wanita ciptaannya—dengan detail yang terlalu mengerikan untuk sekadar imajinasi. Awalnya, Ivan mengira ia gila. Atau mungkin ada penguntit yang membobol apartemennya. Namun, ketika mayat-mayat di dunia nyata mulai bermunculan persis sesuai urutan bab di laptopnya, Ivan sadar. Agnia bukan lagi sekadar tinta. Dia ingin keluar. Dan dia tidak suka akhir cerita yang Ivan rencanakan.

It all began with a single post about canceling a food delivery order. Overnight, I became the internet's punching bag. Thousands of vicious messages flooded my inbox, filled with photoshopped memorials urging me to die. They doxxed my family, plastered my personal details across shady websites, and used AI to create obscene images of me, spreading them in vile chat groups. They spread lies about my income, claiming it came from illicit sources, and accused me of carrying diseases. I didn't call the police or block the messages. Instead, I read every hateful word before singling out the 100 worst offenders. Every day, I sent each one a luxurious meal: Boston lobster, Australian wagyu, the works. Each delivery came with a simple note: [Thank you for your hard work.]

In the fifth year of being Mrs. Cloud, my brother-in-law passed away. My mother, stressed by the thought of my older sister spending her youth in widowhood, wanted her to have a child with the help of my husband. I refused outright, but my protests were useless. My mother brought people to block the door, and I was left to watch helplessly as my husband and my half-sister entered the bedroom together. "She's your sister. What's the harm in letting her have him?" I thought that my husband couldn't possibly do anything with my sister since she was family. I thought he would draw the line, out of decency, out of respect. However, as time passed, my heart grew cold. Only then did I realize that I was the only one who cared about this matter. While I clutched our daughter in my arms and cried in silent devastation, he was going at it with my sister.

“I’m sorry, Donna… the baby didn’t make it.” Those words shattered her world. Her husband’s betrayal finished the job. Once Luna of Ironclad, Donna is cast aside—rejected, beaten, and sold like cattle. The people who once bowed before her now laughed at her humiliation. Even her closest servants turned against her. “Five years without an heir. She has no value left.” But on the auction block, when all hope was lost, a stranger’s voice cut through the crowd. “One million.” The hall fell silent. His presence makes even Alphas bow their heads. And when his eyes meet hers, Donna felt it— the undeniable pull of a bond she thought was lost forever after being rejected. “She is mine,” he declared. “My mate.” Broken. Betrayed. Branded again by fate. Donna’s story is just about to begin.

My college dormmate, who spread nasty rumors about me, sends me an e-invitation. "I'm marrying the richest man in the country and will soon be a trophy wife—I'll be leagues above you. Seeing as we were once dormmates, I'll begrudgingly allow you to be my bridesmaid. Don't miss this chance!" I frown. What is wrong with Jasmine Teach? I'm the country's richest person. When did a man overtake me? I want to block her number and delete the conversation, but I check the e-invitation to be sure. I'm stunned when I see the photo of her husband-to-be. Isn't that Harold Jackson, my husband? He's supposed to be on a business trip. My lips curve in a cold smile, and I type a response while gnashing my teeth. "I'd be honored to be your bridesmaid. I'll prepare a huge surprise for you, too."

“Spread those thighs, little one.” His voice was a low growl as his hand closed around her hips. “Y-yes, Daddy,” she gasped, trembling as he dragged her down to his mouth. “Mmmhh… Daddy’s good girl,” he muttered darkly against her slick heat. “From this moment, your body, your screams, your soul—belong to me.” **************************************** He bought her with blood money. He keeps her with chains and silk. She swears she’ll never bend, but in his world of shadows and sin, defiance only feeds his hunger. In Naples, he’s “Il Diavolo”—the devil every man fears. To her, he’s the ruthless savior who dragged her from an auction block straight into hell. And hell has never felt so addictive. Claimed by the Don is a dark mafia romance laced with filthy dominance, dangerous obsession, and a love story sharp enough to cut.

As the fated mate of the future Alpha of the Silvermoon pack, I've been waiting for Ethan Ford for three whole years. When he gets close to me, my wolf howls obnoxiously because of the mate bond between us. Despite that, he refuses to complete the marking ceremony on the night of the full moon. After that, Ethan shows signs of obsessive infatuation with Ella Turner, my stepsister. He claims that Ella is his true love and goes as far as to release his possessive pheromones all over the pack territory while completely disregarding the pack's rules just so he can woo her. This time, my wolf no longer howls in sorrow, nor do I attempt to get him to stay with me via our mind-link. Instead, I just watch Ethan and Ella's lovey-dovey interactions calmly. At that moment, I've already taken the initiative to block Ethan out of my mind forever.

My father kicked me again, and again. “No daughter of mine would've been so completely useless. All you have brought us is shame and embarrassment. Enough. I've arranged your marriage with the Lycan King. He'll come for you tomorrow and I'll finally be rid of you” “W-what? The Beast Lycan?” I stuttered, my fathers words hit me like a block of ice. “Precisely. He could kill you like his other wives for all I care. Good riddance” My father looked at me one last time, his eyes filled with disgusted contempt before he walked out of the house. ~~~ Iris is hated on by her pack and her father. She gets rejected by her mate and her father arranges her marriage to the Lycan king. The Lycan king has a terrible reputation for killing his brides. Now sucked into his world, Iris is determined to survive and win him over. And things get more complicated when her mate wants her back. Stuck between two men and an origin she knows nothing about, what decision will she make?

The wedding had reached the part where the groom kissed the bride. I closed my eyes and leaned in to kiss Stella Stafford, only to end up with a mouthful of fur. Her assistant held up the camera and burst out laughing. "The almighty Mr. Rowe can't even tell if he's kissing a person or a dog?" I stared at the Husky in front of me, its tongue lolling out, and felt my stomach churn. I was about to lay into him when Stella stepped in to block me. "It was just a joke. No hard feelings." Laurent Reilly smirked smugly, his tone dripping with arrogance. "And guess what? This Husky happens to be a female, so why don't you just marry her instead? You're not good enough for Stella anyway." The employees erupted in laughter. Mortified, I kicked him square in the chest, sending him sprawling. The next second, Stella smashed a wine bottle over my head and demanded an apology. I wiped the mix of wine and blood from my face, then dialed an overseas number with a cold grin. "The wedding is short one bride. You in?"