Part 3 Dio

Rain was my mate's childhood sweetheart. When she found out I'd been exposed to wolfsbane as a child, she slipped a trace amount into my mushroom soup. The moment I swallowed it, a searing pain ripped through my chest. My powers drained away. My wolf howled inside me, thrashing in agony. Panicked, I grabbed my flask — years ago, my father had collected sacred spring water that could neutralize wolfsbane, just in case. But she had swapped that too. The flask was full of the same poisoned soup. The blood drained from my face. Every ounce of strength left my body. I collapsed, clinging to the leg of my mate, Liam. "Please — I've been poisoned. Wolfsbane. You have to help me — " Liam hesitated. But Rain crossed her arms and laughed. "Liam, your fiancée really is quite the actress. It's just mushroom soup. I've been a healer for years, and I've never seen anyone get poisoned from soup." The other werewolves piled on. "Cut the act! Nobody gets poisoned from mushroom soup." "She's just jealous that Rain became a healer. She wants to ruin the celebration." Liam's face went cold again. "Rain's a healer. If there was anything wrong with the soup, she'd know. You'll be fine." I stopped begging. I spent the last shred of my energy reaching through the mind-link to my father — Alpha Hale of the Granite Pack.

My sister was the golden child, the pride of our family, but she had a rare blood disorder that required treatments costing thousands every month. To keep her alive, I became her personal blood donor, working nonstop to pay for her care and delivering food all day and night. But one day, she nearly died from hemorrhaging after trying to abort a pregnancy. That’s when I learned the child she was carrying belonged to my boyfriend. When I confronted him, he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he dragged me to the operating table himself. “You were born to be her blood bank. Dying for her? It’s the best thing you’ll ever do.” I was left there, bleeding out, my life slipping away with every drop. But as death closed in, something changed. The people who once hoped I’d disappear—the ones who used me, betrayed me—they all began to unravel, losing their insanity.

My life has always been like that of a prisoner. My father has always protected me from the outsiders not because he cared for me but because he is a mafia king of Eastern Italy and my virginity is the weapon which he would use to gain more pride. He feared that I might run away or worse would lose my virginity to some random guy, not from our world. He wanted me to be pure, because in our world no one marries a used girl. When a truce was signed between Eastern and Western Italy, I was offered to marry the would alpha of eastern Italy. I considered him different,thought he was unlike the other men in our world and will protect me from the bad. Something that was acceptable by me, was happening in my life for the first time when everything destroyed on my wedding night and now I don't have any emotions left in me and the only thing I want now is to seek revenge.

En mi quinto año de matrimonio con el Don de una poderosa familia mafiosa, descubrí que el amuleto de protección que me regaló me provocaba dolores de cabeza cada vez que lo llevaba conmigo. Como cirujana, esto me alarmó. Tomé los pequeños sobres que encontré dentro del amuleto y los llevé al laboratorio de toxicología del Hospital Kosley. El médico los inspeccionó y me dijo que contenían un tipo de veneno de acción lenta que no solo daña el cuerpo de la víctima, sino que también la vuelve infértil después de un tiempo. Lloré y exclamé: —¡Pero eso es imposible! ¡Mi esposo fue quien me dio esto! Se llama Vincenzo Cursley. ¡También es el dueño de este hospital! El médico me miró confundido. —Señorita, por favor, deje de decir tonterías. Conozco al señor Cursley y a su esposa. Son muy cercanos e íntimos entre ellos. Además, la señora Cursley dio a luz a un bebé hace poco. Ambos están ahora en la sala VIP, cuidando de su bebé. Entonces, el médico me mostró una foto en su teléfono. Vincenzo vestía su traje negro habitual con el emblema de la familia Cursley bordado en él. Sostenía a un bebé en brazos, y en cuanto a la mujer que estaba a su lado... La conocía. Se llama Claudia Henderson. Y Vincenzo siempre se ha referido a ella como su hermana adoptiva.

During the party, my blind date brushed his hand against my thigh under the table. There were people passing by us, so I had to push down my desire. He had sun-kissed skin, and his body was hard and muscular. Later, in the car on the way home, he asked me if I wanted to…

Soulmates? Terkadang sulit sekali membedakan antara Soulmate dengan Pasangan hidup. Tapi Aku yakin pasti ada yang membedakan dua kosakata itu. Yang pasti, Aku menginginkan dua kosakata menjadi satu dalam hidupku. Hidup yang bahagia selamanya. Bersama.__Erina Eshal Mislav_14 Feb' 1990, 27 Tahun. Cinta yang tulus? Aku tidak yakin itu ada dalam hidup sekarang ini. Selama bertahun-tahun, Aku tidak pernah merasakan Cinta yang tulus itu. Semuanya Munafik. Tapi...semuanya berubah saat Aku bertemu denganmu, dan berubah lagi saat tidak sengaja Aku melukaimu.__Arthur Eryk Shaquile_12 April 1989, 28 Tahun. Semua orang di dunia ini sama saja. Selalu saja tidak bisa lepas dari yang namanya“Uang. Apalagi saat hati dan cinta kita sepenuhnya untuk seseorang, tapi seseorang itu lebih memilih "Uang" dan pergi meninggalkan ketulusan Cinta kita, apa yang terjadi padamu? Yup, Dalam sekejap merubah pribadiku menjadi sedikit apatis terhadap Wanita.__Zhafar Basrian Rafael_27 Nov' 1988, 29 Tahun.

Eu trabalhava como professora particular quando o meu vício em sexo explodiu de vez, e eu cheguei ao orgasmo na frente do pai da minha aluna. Os meus comprimidos tinham acabado, e bem na minha frente estava exatamente a aluna a quem eu dava aula. Quando o prazer começou a me torturar a ponto de eu quase perder a razão, uma mão deslizou pelo meu corpo. Aquela mão tinha uma força que eu nunca tinha sentido antes e, num ponto escondido, ela começou a provocar cada pedacinho sensível em mim. Eu lutava para aguentar o prazer e continuava a aula aos trancos e barrancos. Até que, quando eu cheguei na explicação da sexta palavra, eu deixei escapar um gemido e atingi o auge ali mesmo, sem conseguir dar um passo. Naquele exato instante, eu senti um cilindro em brasa, rígido e pronto para me invadir, encostando firme atrás de mim.

He was trained to repair failing hearts. She never imagined hers would be the one placed in danger. When Iris Moore steps into Hale Heart Institute as a newly graduated medical trainee, she carries ambition, grief, and hunger beneath her calm exterior. Raised by her grandmother after losing her mother early, Iris chose cardiology to honor love, survival, and sacrifice. Desire was never part of her plan. Until Dr. Nathaniel Hale. Powerful. Controlled. Forbidden. Nathaniel is the hospital’s most respected cardiologist, bound by legacy, family, and expectation. The woman chosen for him has his name, not his heart. Discipline built his world. Iris threatens to burn it down. From their first meeting, tension coils tight and breathless. Training becomes intimate. Touches linger. Hands brush skin too slowly. In quiet labs and shadowed corridors, restraint frays, desire pulses, and every heartbeat feels like a risk. But hospitals whisper. Nurses watch. Jealousy sharpens. And the woman waiting to claim Nathaniel’s future moves to destroy the threat. A complaint is filed. Warning arrives. line is crossed. Iris is targeted, isolated, and tested. Nathaniel is forced to choose between duty and desire, control and craving. Every stolen look costs more. Every step closer invites ruin. Because when forbidden hearts collide, consequences are brutal. And when restraint finally snaps, passion will demand payment. Some loves are dangerous because they feel too right. Some choices shatter everything. In a hospital built to save lives, this love might destroy two. And when secrets surface, survival will require courage, sacrifice, and surrender. Iris must decide whether to run or stay. Nathaniel must risk his name, his family, his future. Because once desire claims the heart, there is no safe way back. This story burns slow, deep, and unforgiving, pulling readers breathless toward scandal, surrender, obsession, desire

A week after I gave birth via C-section, Mark Whitman invited his friends over to celebrate the birth of our son. The crowd was boisterous—more than a dozen people. Not one of them bothered to remove their dirty shoes. The wooden floor was soon covered in muddy footprints. Mark came into the room and, without a hint of concern, ordered me out of bed. "Everyone's waiting outside. Don't just hide here and rest—you're embarrassing me in front of our guests." I had no choice but to push through the pain, forcing my body to prepare a huge meal for the large crowd, all on my own. When I carried the final bowl of steaming soup to the table, Lily Hoyte—whether intentionally or not—jabbed her hand against the wound on my abdomen. My hand trembled from the sudden pain, and the bowl slipped slightly, spilling the hot soup onto Lily's shoes. Mark's face darkened instantly. "What the heck did you do, Cammy? Lily rushed here right after her plane landed from overseas to see our son, and this is how you treat her?" The crowd quickly chimed in. "Come on, Cammy, no need to be so petty." "Mark and Lily grew up together. If there was really something between them, do you think you'd even be here now?" "Do you even know how much those shoes cost? They're limited edition—easily over ten thousand dollars. And you just ruined them." Lily stood up awkwardly, her eyes misting with tears. "If Cammy doesn't like me," she said softly, "then I'll leave. I don't want to be a bother." But Mark grabbed her hand in an exaggerated display of protection, his voice harsh as he turned to me. "Wipe Lily's shoes clean. Right now." His partiality for Lily made something sharp twist in my chest. My lips quivered as I fought back tears. "The wound on my stomach hasn't healed yet. I can't bend over." At that, his expression grew colder. "Don't use childbirth as an excuse. If you can't bend over, then kneel and wipe them. And if you won't, get out of my house!"

My boyfriend and his godsister were caught by the vice squad at a scandalous party. When I went to the police station to bail him out, he was disheveled, his exposed skin marked with dried candle wax and whiplash scars. His godsister, Sonia, clung to him, sobbing into his arms. “The light in Sonia’s house was broken. It was too dark, so I went to accompany her,” he said. I couldn’t help but wonder, Did he accompany her all the way to the police station too? In the past, I would’ve demanded an explanation, but I was too tired now—too drained to argue. Without a word, I signed the papers. The vice squad officer looked at me and asked, “Are you Anthony Leeman’s family?” I shook my head. “No, I’m not familiar with him. Just a colleague.” Lowering my gaze, I typed out a message to my father: [I agree to get married. Give me three days, and I’ll marry him.]