One Piece Whitebeard Son Novels & Stories

On Christmas Eve, my six-year-old, Yule, was dying from cancer, and all he wanted was a gift from his dad dressed as Santa. I called Peter, my husband, begging him to come. His reply? "Can you stop blowing up my phone? I don't have time for this! I'm helping Tracey find Puffy. Do you know how upset she is?" Oh, Tracey. His first love. And Puffy? Her dog. I told him Yule might not make it through the night. His response? A straight-up dagger: "Don't act like this isn't your fault, Freya. If Yule hadn't kicked Puffy, none of this would've happened. Tomorrow, make sure he apologizes to Tracey." Then he hung up. That night, I sat with Yule, crying as I helped him celebrate his last Christmas. By morning, Peter's social medias were still full of posts about that freaking dog. Mine? Yule's obituary. Ten years of marriage, gone.

In our five years of marriage, I had given in to my husband, John, for a grand total of three times. The first time was during my pregnancy. He had taken his ex-girlfriend Stacy, who had once taken three bullets for him, back home and cared for her. When I became angry, he immediately sent her away once she recovered. The second time was after childbirth, when I was ready to return to work. To repay a favor, he gave the position I had worked years for to Stacy. He said it was so I could rest well. I looked at my son, who needed me, and I conceded. The third time was during our son’s birthday. In front of the entire company, he had announced that Stacy was his wife, all so she could establish herself in the company. I gave him two choices: divorce or send her away. Without hesitation, he chose the latter and immediately sent her abroad. The fourth time was when my father suddenly had a heart attack and urgently needed surgery. He disappeared again. I searched everywhere for him to cover the hospital expenses, and I finally discovered that he had gone to the airport to pick up a pregnant Stacy, who was returning to the country. Because of that, my father missed the best chance for treatment and died. I was done giving in. I disguised the divorce agreement as our son’s medical bill and tricked him into signing it. No compensation or apology would matter. I did not wish to have him near my son or myself again.

One Year to Lose You Maya Bennett has twelve months left to live. At twenty-one, she has everything: bestselling books, wealth, and a man who loves her enough to kneel with a ring in his hand. So she breaks his heart. On the night he proposes, Maya tells Ray she has fallen out of love. That she wants someone else, she walks away before he can see her fall apart because it’s easier to be hated than mourned. Then she meets Jay, a stranger in sportswear who can’t pay his taxi fare, so she thought… but in the real sense, he is the man the city knows as billionaire Jay Naire. She offers him a deal: pretend to be her boyfriend for one year. Make it convincing for Ray to forget her before she’s gone, and Jay agrees. But the more they fake it, the more real it becomes. And before the year runs out, Maya finds herself trapped between two men, the one she tried to save, and the one who refuses to let her go. Will twelve months be enough to lose both of them? Or will she run out of time first?

My little sister, Maya, got into a car crash. I put her in a high-end recovery center. Her injuries were bad. Progress crawled. They kept extending her treatment, one phase at a time. Early this morning, the manager called. Said the card wouldn't cover the next phase. That's when it hit me—peak season at the company. I'd been slammed, barely breathing. I hadn't topped it up in forever. I told her I'd transfer the money. She shut it down. Said I had to show up and sign in person before they'd extend anything. So after work, I rushed over. Straight into rush hour traffic. Then she called again. "Ms. Keyne, your balance hit zero three minutes ago. We're terminating services. This is a premium facility—we don't do free care. The patient tied to your account has been removed per policy."

It was the night of my husband's and my third anniversary, and I had gotten home early. I caught him in bed with another woman—for the tenth time. But unlike the previous times, I did not throw a tantrum. I even closed the door to the master bedroom quietly, not wanting to interrupt. In Scott Jameson's eyes, I had no choice but to tolerate his cheating because I became Mrs. Jameson by getting pregnant with his child. Three months later, he flung divorce papers at me. "My young lover wants me to give her a home and to bear my son. Sign the papers." I looked into his cold, distant eyes and said with conviction, "All right. All I want is custody of our son. I don't want a cent of the Jamesons' money." The court proceedings were difficult, and I was accused of being mentally unstable. Many people made fun of me for not knowing my place. All of Cloverton was waiting for me to humiliate myself, counting the seconds until a nobody like me succumbed to desperation. However, I fought the case with everything I had. Eventually, I was finally able to leave with my son. No one knew that Scott suffered from a serious case of asthenozoospermia. His sperm were completely useless. No other woman could have Scott's baby except me, as I happened to be unusually fertile. My son would be the only heir to the Jameson family legacy.

Paige got pregnant by a bad boy in high school. Two years later, after many sacrifices and without having any contact other than phone calls, she and the father of her child reunite. Can they live together for the sake of their shared child? Can the bad boy not be so bad?

Samantha is a beautiful young lady with lots of dreams. She was from an average family that’s why she study really hard to become successful. Charles is a businessman who manages the largest bus company at a very young age. They first met in the bus station owned by Charles. After getting to know each other, they became lovers. One year has passed when Charles decided to propose to Sam. Unfortunately, Sam ran away after he proposed. Sam was only 21 years old at that time. She was not ready yet. After that incident, Charles left the country. They met again after three years and got back together. However, Charles has a new lover who will do anything just to separate them. Will their love conquer everything?

Nick Owen might be the biggest and strongest alpha wolf in the moonlight pack, but he is no better than the slave and servants, and that is because he was born a bastard. He soon finds out that his destined mate was none other than the rogue he had previously arrested, who at that moment claims to be his evil stepbrother's mate. He is heartbroken and promises to get back at her for picking his stepbrother over him. Kyle is the only daughter of her witch human mother and a wolf father that she has never seen. Her desperation to find her father leads her to a pack where she is forced to make an unpleasant deal in other to save her life. What happens when the bastard and the rogue find out that they are siblings? Could the moon goddess in her all-knowing wisdom make a mistake of matching them as mates or have they lied to their entire life? find out in this suspense-filled story.

The witch told us my older sister would die at sixteen, and her prophecies had never been wrong. From that moment on, my sister became the most important one in the family. The best venison was saved for her. The rare white fox fur was given to her. Every night, our parents told her bedtime stories. I knew she was pitiful, but I still felt hurt and resentful. Then, on the day she turned sixteen, a sharp pain spread through my chest. Afraid I would cause trouble, my parents locked me in the basement. “Mom, please…” I cried, pounding on the door. “I can feel my wolf spirit getting weaker. Let me out…” However, Mom said without hesitation, “No! Today is an important day for your sister. “She only has one day left. Just bear with it…” When I finally closed my eyes and my soul drifted out of my body, I saw the living room filled with warm candlelight. My parents were holding my sister who was alive and well as they cried. Only then did I realize that the witch’s prophecy had never been wrong. The one meant to die was never my sister.

Just as Justin proposed to me, a phone call interrupted him. Standing close by, I clearly heard the voice on the other end of the line. “Justin, I’m hurt. My leg hurts so much!” Justin snapped the ring box shut and looked at me. “Alice is injured. I’ll have to do this another time.” With those words, he sprinted away, leaving everyone around us staring in astonishment. I had never met Alice, but her presence lingered in every corner of our lives.  At meals, Justin would mention her fondness for sweet desserts.  When I dressed, I came to know her love for soft lavender hues. I argued, I wept, I lashed out, but Justin always countered with the same line. “You’re so jealous. Everyone has their first love. She’s my past, but you’re my future.” So, I turned to a man who had once called me his first love—Quentin—and made a bold proposition. “Let’s get married.”