Ost Drama Full House Novels & Stories

I let out a short chuckle and calmly said, “Not only am I divorcing you, but I’m also taking custody of the children and ownership of this villa.” Even the bodyguards, who had been uncertain where they stood, began looking at me as though I were insane. “Wow, listen to her. Who does she think she is?” “She wants the house and the kids? She must still be dreaming.” “Exactly. This is the Gray family. Anyone who dares to fight Mr. Gray for something doesn’t know what they’re up against.” Martin looked at me like I had told the most absurd joke. “Jessica, even if you’re desperate for money, there should be a limit!

My oldest cousin, Jason, walked into the house and the other cousins followed. The living room immediately seemed cramped. Derek instantly became nervous and began to stutter. "Laura, why... why did you bring so many people? Are you planning on beating me up? I'm telling you, it's illegal to use violence..." "I would never hit a useless piece of garbage!" Jason rubbed his hands and said to my other cousins, "Let's get to work, guys. Throw all the rubbish out of the house!" "Okay!" the rest shouted. My cousins immediately got to work. They removed all the photo frames on the walls, the karaoke set, the poker tables, and everything else in the living room.

Now I knew he'd been bleeding me dry for Riley Anderson, his childhood sweetheart. "I want to refinance the house, too," he added. I stopped what I was doing, my hands frozen in the sink, and turned to stare straight at him. "You really want your four three-year-old sons to end up homeless?" This house wasn't much, just a small three-bedroom, but it was ours—the one we'd fought for, saved for, and sacrificed for. The mortgage wasn't even close to being paid off. His name was on the deed because when we first bought it, I had been out of town on business. He'd told me it would be easier that way, with him making the payments.

The housekeeper became my stepmother, and together with her son, they plotted to kill me. After being reborn, I exposed a video of her affair at her own wedding, destroying her reputation completely. I watched as she and her son were kicked out. They left with nothing, wandering the streets like outcasts. I smiled and tossed a moldy piece of bread into their begging bowl. “This is all you deserve.” …… When I opened my eyes, I found myself back to a week before my dad’s wedding to our housekeeper, Megan Zimmerman.

I, Gianna Johnston, am born into a family of prodigies. My dad, Henry Johnston, is a computer science professor from Hafford University. My mom, Naomi Liddell, is a medical professor at Starvard University. And my brother, George Johnston, is an international math olympiad champion. Meanwhile, I'm barely passing my math classes at school. George gets so mad at me that he immediately writes down three full sets of math exam questions and exclaims, "You're so dumb that you're nothing but an embarrassment to Mom and Dad and me! "Don't you even think about leaving the house and embarrassing us again without completing all these math questions!" Mom then forces a few pills straight down my t

“How can you be so ungrateful? Him using your house for his newlywed life is doing you a favor. It’ll bring you good luck! Other people would jump at the chance! Wendy, your sharp tongue won’t get you anywhere!” Brad slammed his hand on the table and stood up. His tone was deadly serious. “We’re not joking. This is serious! My son is the rightful heir of the family. Everything should revolve around him! Now that he’s getting married to carry on the family line, it’s a major event. All of us should be paving the way for him! It’s just a house, do you really have to be so stingy?” “Exactly! You’re Leo’s aunt. It’s not just the right thing for you to do, but your duty!” Linda chimed in. “Fine,

Emma asks. "Absolutely. Let's go do it right now." I take her hand, and we walk downstairs together. The house we live in now is nothing like 1247 Elm Street. It's bright and open, with huge windows that let in natural light. There are photos on every wall, our wedding, Emma's first birthday, holidays with Thomas, candid shots of our everyday life. This is what home is supposed to feel like. Tony is in the kitchen making breakfast, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. It's Saturday, which means no Stark Industries business today. Saturdays are sacred family time.

“Have you no shame? A princess, offering her hand in marriage when your dowry is worth just as much as their entire generation’s wealth?” But the House of the Wolves’ territory isn’t one to be underestimated. I’ve been to their lands. They are wealthy. They are successful. Sure, not as wealthy as the royal family, but I’m sure they can level to the top Houses… had they not been so uncouth. Well, they’re wolves, after all. “Mayhap you were determined to marry him, and only him?” Eudora asks. She leans into me. “Tell us about this Alpha, sister.”

My brother, who likewise thinks too far for the future, as I already stated, purchased home goods. I recently learned that they work commission-based and part-time jobs to save money. I also learnt the rationale for their desire to relocate and acquire independence. I can see their viewpoint, but their choice seemed a little rash. However, that is their decision and not mine. I looked over at Rome who was sitting next to me and noticed his serious expression, so I went in the same direction. When I noticed the man seated next to the man wearing the cardigan, my eyebrows shot up. Why are they like this? Why does Rome act like this? He is really weird.

After three months away, I was finally home. I asked the house's male housekeeper, Jacob Miller, to give me a hand carrying my luggage upstairs. Jacob hoisted the suitcase but had barely taken a few steps when—bang—the luggage crashed to the floor. He clutched his wrist, wincing in pain. The noise startled the three women on the sofa. They jumped up and rushed toward him, surrounding him with frantic questions, fussing as if he were about to shatter. They scrambled for ointment, massaging his wrist with careful fingers, treating him like fragile porcelain.