Perfect Ruin Novels & Stories

Not happy endings. **************************************************

“Thank you for all your hard work, Kate. Your drug is going to be named Monica’s Cure.” My world collapses. This betrayal feels sharper than any blade. “Rest in peace, Kate,” Monica adds. My eyes widen when I see the gas pressure indicator on the lab wall shooting into the red. I reach the door, coughing violently and still trying to pound on it from the inside. “Paul! There’s a gas leak! Open the door!” I scream hysterically. But Paul and Monica simply walk away, leaving me choking and slowly losing consciousness. Then a painful whistling sound is heard, as if the Angel of Death is swinging his scythe.

I am, using her personal for a deadly purpose that makes my skin crawl. But I have no choice. Just as I am about to step out of his car, Sorren’s hand closes over mine. I freeze. His thumb drags slowly across my skin- too slow to be anything but intentional. “Don’t sleep with him,” he says quietly. “Like I’ve said earlier, he was born cursed. Women who do dies.” I push the fear that threatens to surface away. “I have absolutely zero intention to.” I say, pulling my hand away.

He looked like he was already planning exactly how to ruin me next. Fuck.....I was in so much trouble.

"Please, Brandon, this is not a game. The truth is that I got tired of playing the same thing for many years. You know well that it is not the fact of what I feel and what you feel for someone else, it is the fact of knowing that there is nothing more to pursue here. I want a person by my side who looks at me like you looked at Crystal and I didn't want to realize that until it was too late. I'm so sorry Brandon, I'm sorry I didn't do something when I could, before it was too late.” "Tábata, you don't have to tell me anything else. "I failed you, maybe if I had told you one night ago that I wasn't drunk.” "Please, Tábata, stop it, stop it, I don't want to know any more. The past is the past

Both the pre-ruin and the post-ruin, I wasn't ready for any of it. My movements came to a halt when my gaze flitted across the street and landed on the poster of the new Fantasy series I had been waiting on; All the Beautiful Things. It was a trilogy. All the beautiful things are red, All the beautiful things are gold, and All the beautiful things are black. It was more like Romantasy actually. A wide grin crept up my face and I looked sideways, before slipping towards the bookstore even though I knew there was no car in sight. Volxe bookstore.

In a desperate, life-threatening situation, even the lowliest or most cowardly creatures would fight to stay alive, much less someone like Roland. He frantically tried to defend himself. "Your Majesty, my failure to arrive in time to protect you was my fault. But I was wronged! Mirella often abused Vivian at home and took advantage of her pregnancy to act lawlessly. She stole my signal flare before I left, and I had no idea of the attack!" Those words stirred my heart all over again, and I let out a bitter laugh. The signal flare I desperately begged for had now become something I stole.

Scared. A thousand thoughts were running through my mind. He needed to have a reason to do this. I didn't give him any reasons. I was the dutiful wife. The one who never complained. I made sure to keep Ellie out of his way. So where was this coming from? “You've been a pain in the ass, Danielle,” Cole said. “I was tired. And of course, I really need the insurance money. The business is going downhill.” I couldn't hold back my disgusted gasp. “You decided to poison your child and I because your business was going downhill.” It didn't even make sense to me.

said another. “Shantel must be regretting her life choices right about now,” a third added with laughing emojis. I’d stopped reading them after a while because every word felt like a knife twisting in my gut, reminding me of how far I’d fallen and how publicly I was falling. The great Alpha Aaron Moonstone, reduced to a punchline and a cautionary tale about pride coming before destruction. Towards evening, after spending hours in my office staring at financial reports that showed nothing but red numbers and mounting debts, I found myself in a near trance-like state.

"Oh, you're yelling at me? What exactly do you have that compares to Myra? All these years, she handled everything, and I just had to sign papers. I never had to lift a damn finger!" The two of them tore into each other without holding anything back. But no amount of screaming could fix the company's collapse. Soon after, Alan's company fell apart completely. To cover the financial losses, the court forced them out of the villa Alan and I once lived in together. It had to be auctioned off. And even with their lives falling to pieces, neither of them chose to actually work or rebuild. Instead, to maintain the lifestyle they were used to, they turned to gambling. It didn't take long for them t