Operating Systems: Internals And Design Principles Novels & Stories

By the time I got home from my business trip, it was already past midnight—and my husband wasn't there. A woman's blouse lay on the sofa. It wasn't mine. I called him. He said he was working late at the office. I didn't bother with pretense. "Whose blouse is on the sofa?" His tone was light and casual. "Who else would it be? It's obviously a gift for you. Try it on." Suspicious, I picked it up and held it against myself. The blouse was clearly one size too small. "Honey, this is a size S. I always wear M." My husband owns a clothing company. He handles all my clothes. He's even used my measurements to design women's wear. There's no way he doesn't know my size. On the phone, he froze for half a second, then spoke as if piecing something together. "This is a new women's line I'm launching. I ordered custom pieces for you and my sister. I must've grabbed the wrong one. I'll switch it tomorrow." A moment later, his voice softened with exhaustion. "Babe, you've been gone for days. Without you, I feel so tired… I miss you so much…" It was already late into the night. Hearing him sound vulnerable—something he rarely did—made my chest tighten. I blamed myself for overthinking. But the moment I hung up, realization struck. His sister has the same build as me. She always wears size M.

I was engineered to kill men with a kiss. When my pleasure‑kill protocol glitches on a Bratva king and binds my system to his, he gives me a choice: become his contract wife… or be handed back to the monsters who built me I was trained to destroy men without leaving a mark. The Siren Protocol turned my body into a weapon—every nerve engineered to dismantle loyalty, erase secrets, and turn power into submission. One kiss, and I can crash a neural implant like a virus. Hidden behind a luxury cover identity, I’m waiting for my next directive when my door explodes inward and Kael Petrov walks in—Bratva heir, tech billionaire, and the most controlled man in the city. He thinks he’s here to extract a traitor using his accounts to leak Siren data. He doesn’t know the “escort” in front of him is the Siren asset he’s hunting. So, I do what I was built for. I kiss him. My pleasure‑kill protocol should drop him in eight seconds. Instead, his high‑grade implant bites back. My signal loops through his system and straight into mine, fusing us in a feedback circuit of raw, addictive sensation that neither of us can control. Instead of killing him, I bind myself to him. Now I’m collared in his tower, my systems synced to his, and he’s staring at me like I’m the most interesting problem he’s ever seen. To keep me out of Bratva torture cells but still under his eye, Kael gives me a brutal ultimatum: Marry him and live as his contract wife, or be handed to the men who will take me apart for parts. I was meant to end him. Falling for him was never part of the directive.

‘Callie,’ he began, his voice husky, ‘crying over your ex-boyfriend won’t solve anything.’ Confusion etched across her face, Callie furrowed her brows. ‘Then what will? ’ she demanded, her voice tinged with frustration. Elias leaned closer, his warm breath caressing her cheek. ‘You need to show him what he’s lost. Find a man who’s more handsome, more powerful, and richer than him. Then, make a grand entrance into his life with your new partner.’ Callie scoffed, her eyes rolling in disbelief. ‘Where am I supposed to find someone like that? ’ Elias’s fingers gently lifted her chin, locking their gazes together. ‘I can be that man,’ he said. ‘If you agree to be with me, I’ll protect you from any harm, including your ex-boyfriend.’ ********************************************** Elias Westwood, billionaire heir turned professional solider, a commanding presence on the battlefield, conceals a tender heart that beats for only one woman——Callie Hawthorne, a fearless surgical resident, possesses an innocent charm and wields her skills like a warrior in the operating theatre. Their first encounter thrusts them into a dangerous game of deception. Elias uses Callie as a pawn, their lips locked in a passionate kiss, fooling his pursuers. In that moment, Callie feels the allure of the enigmatic soldier, and a strange connection sparks between them. An impulsive decision seals their fate—a hasty marriage to escape an arranged union and prove Callie’s readiness to move on from a past love. Little did they know, this act would propel them onto an unforeseen path. Will Elias and Callie emerge unscathed from the shadows, or will their sacrifices shatter their dreams forever? Discover their fight for a future filled with hope, trust, and the promise of a happy ending.

I saved the man who destroyed my family. Dr. Emma Lawson has spent five years hating billionaire Damien Cross. His corporate takeover crushed her father's company, shattered her parents' marriage, and forced her to work three jobs just to survive medical school. Then he crashes onto her operating table. Bleeding out. Dying. One slip of the scalpel. No one would question it. But Emma took an oath. Even monsters deserve to live. When Damien wakes with amnesia, his assistant offers Emma $200,000 to pretend she's his girlfriend. Just three days. One merger vote. Then she walks away. Emma agrees. Not for the money. For revenge. What she doesn't expect: Damien without his memories is nothing like the ruthless CEO she imagined. He's vulnerable. Protective. Looking at her like she's his entire world. What she doesn't know: Damien has been watching her for five years. The photo in his wallet. The surveillance files. The reason he destroyed her father's company. It was never about business. It was about protecting the woman he couldn't stop thinking about from a conspiracy that would have killed her entire family. As fake feelings become dangerously real, Emma discovers the truth: their families weren't destroyed by corporate greed. They were caught in a pharmaceutical conspiracy involving illegal human trials, billions in black market research, and a man who will do anything to perfect a drug that was never meant to cure. Some debts are paid in money. Some are paid in blood. But the debt between Emma and Damien? That one can only be paid in truth. She saved his life. He's been saving hers for five years. Now they have three days to save each other.

My husband, Joseph Coleman, falls from the third floor, shatters both legs, and even injures what men fear losing most. I don't rush him to the nearest hospital. Instead, I drive him to a hospital two thousand miles away. In my previous life, Joseph jumped on purpose so the hospital intern he dotes on, Kimberly Parker, could secure a permanent spot by operating on him. He refused the capable surgeons nearby and insisted I take him to the hospital where Kimberly works, just so she can treat him. I turned him down because Kimberly is an untrained intern who got in through connections and has no surgical experience. Joseph had slapped me hard across the face. "I just want to use my injury to help Kim go permanent. Why are you being so petty?" He was dead set on Kimberly treating him. I worried the delay would ruin his legs, so I asked his mother, Diane Lowe, to talk sense into him. But what I never expected was Kimberly jumping from the hospital building when she failed her probation. Meanwhile, Joseph is treated in time, and both legs are spared. On the day he's discharged, I come smiling to take him home, but he runs me down with his car and kills me. As I collapse on the floor, choking on blood, I ask him why. He looks at me like I'm something stuck to his shoe. "If you hadn't stopped me from helping Kimberly go permanent, she never would've died!" When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Joseph falls and breaks his legs.

I knew perfectly well that people from the Emirates do not eat pork. Yet this time, I watched in silence as my husband's childhood sweetheart insisted on placing a pork dish on the table. In fact, I even supported her decision. In my past life, when our company hosted a welcome banquet for powerful investors from the Emirates, she had been desperate to flaunt her cooking. Against all reason, she forced a pork dish onto the menu. I stopped her then. I explained that pork was forbidden by religious belief, and that offending the investors could cost us everything. If they withdrew their funding, the company's finances would collapse overnight. She took my warning as jealousy. In a fit of rage, she ran out of the banquet hall and was struck by a car, leaving her in a permanent vegetative state. I thought my husband would break down. Instead, he remained calm, stayed through the dinner, and secured the investment in surprisingly calmness. The truth revealed itself later. After the company went public, he brought me abroad under the guise of business, only to drag me onto a medical ship in international waters. As my kidney was cut from my body, I cried and asked him why. His answer came with a slap. "If you hadn't been jealous back then... If you hadn't tried to sabotage her, she wouldn't have ended up like that." I died in agony on the operating table. After my death, he used the money from selling my organs to cure his beloved childhood sweetheart, and the two of them went on to live rich, comfortable lives together. And then I opened my eyes again, back to the very day she decided to serve pork to the clients.

My seven-year-old son, Matthew Hayes, needs an Rh-negative blood transfusion very badly because he's gotten roped into a car accident. I roll up my sleeve immediately. "Take my blood, doctor! I have Rh-negative blood!" But my husband, Samuel Hayes, grabs my hand tightly. "Hold on, let me call another person! She also has Rh-negative blood!" I throw the divorce agreement at his face instead. "If she wants to donate her blood, she can go ahead and do that right after you sign this divorce agreement!" Samuel clutches the agreement angrily. "Have you gone nuts, Naomi Hart? Our son is waiting to be saved right now, and yet you're bringing up divorce at this time?" I gaze at him coldly. "That's right." My mother-in-law, Evelyn Shaw, rushes over and slaps me at that moment. "You vile woman! Samuel is worried about your physique, and yet you still kick up a fuss over this matter!" I don't bother dodging the slap. Then, I walk over to the doorway of the operating theater before announcing, "Doctor, stop all of your surgical preparations! As the patient's family, I refuse to donate my blood, and I refuse to let my son undergo the surgery!" Both Samuel and Evelyn are stunned by my declaration. Samuel points at me and yells in a quivering tone, "Back then, you almost died in the hospital just to secure Matthew's life! Are you trying to kill him now, Naomi?" I just look at Samuel emotionlessly. Heck, I can't be bothered to even show an expression right now. "I never forgot about those times. But that was in the past. Now, I don't want Matthew anymore."

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.

I was his one weakness. Don Alex, the king of New York. And I was his queen. But days before our child was due, I was thrown into the Dockside Deathmatch—a cruel game broadcast for the underground world’s entertainment. The bullets flew, hidden traps lay in wait, and my every terrified, pathetic attempt to survive was broadcast live on giant screens. Then, I heard his second-in-command on the loudspeaker. "Boss, your wife's about to pop. You sure you wanna be here?" I froze. Alex was here? A moment later, a woman’s sugary voice dripped through the speakers. "Forget that bitch. Alex told me the only thing that mattered today was being here with me. Right, honey?" It was Scarlett. The Chicago Outfit's princess. Alex's childhood sweetheart from Chicago, a woman he had always pampered and shown a distinct bias towards. He had turned down her advances for years, but he never refused her whims. Today, she was in a bad mood and insisted on watching the deathmatch, so he was here to keep her company. I screamed for Alex, begged him for help, but he was convinced I was an assassin in disguise. Because Scarlett laughed and said the game needed to be more exciting. So he pressed the button. Vicious patrol dogs hunted me. My water broke, mixing with blood on the ground. I was in agony. The game hit its climax as more dogs and gunmen closed in from all sides. Everyone was betting on who would be the next to die. Alex smiled, his voice a low, careless drawl, "I’ll bet on that filthy pregnant woman to die." He didn't know the truth until I bled out on an operating table, our child dead with me. They say the ruthless Godfather shattered. Broke completely.

I was diagnosed with Wolf-Soul Decay Syndrome on my birthday, which meant I was on the verge of death. But my older brother, Alaric Sinclair, bought the only tube of Moonviolet serum—a serum capable of saving my life—just so he could give it to my younger adopted sister, Megan Sinclair. He thought I faked my illness in order to attract everyone's attention. Because of that, I stole the serum when no one was looking and took it. That night, Megan drove away from home in tears, only to be met with a fatal car accident that took her life. I was cast out of my childhood home by my parents. Even my fiance, Kenneth Ravenscroft, who once vowed to protect me, hated my guts. Upon returning to my own home, I ended up dying in a fire that broke out. But what I don't expect is that I've traveled back in time to the third day before my demise. During those three days, I've given up on everything. When I mention that I can give away my spot at the marking ceremony, Kenneth praises me for being an understanding fiancee. When I hand over my design company, which is in the top 500 rank, to Megan, my parents are satisfied with me. "You've finally learned how to be selfless, Evie," they say. But Alaric grabs my hand and roars, "Didn't you claim that you'd never give those things away unless you die? Why are you giving them away now?" That's because I'm about to die, dear brother.