Photos Of Todoroki

“Andreas… you’re young. I don’t want to hurt you,” Mia breathed. He chuckled darkly. “Hurt me? I think I’m the one with power here,” he murmured, smirking. “You flew across the world just because I asked.” Her pulse raced as he pinned her to the desk, his fingers sliding beneath her skirt, brushing her damp panties, and his lips grazing her ear. “So…for two weeks, you do exactly what I say. No arguments.” “Yes…” she whispered. “Yes, what?” “Yes… Sir.” “Good girl,” he whispered. “On your knees. Now.” .......... Mia, a 34-year-old, recently divorced musical superstar and single mother, finds herself in an unexpected romance with 24-year-old Andreas Leonardo, the scandalous and hottest soccer player on the planet. Despite their instant attraction, their 10-year age gap and Mia's troubled past make her hesitant. Defying all odds, they ignite a forbidden romance. The media frenzy threatens to destroy Mia's reputation and career. Things get more complicated when Mia's ex-husband, Lucas, blackmails her with compromising photos of her past. Also, Andreas's cheating ex-fiancée, Tania, returned and is desperate to secure a wealthy future for her ailing son. But when Lucas is found dead, Mia becomes the prime suspect, and Andreas risks everything to clear her name. As they navigate their perilous quest for truth, they must also rescue Mia's daughter, who's been kidnapped. Will Mia and Andreas overcome their past mistakes and find love and redemption, or will their rumors tear them apart?

Joel Gleason, my childhood sweetheart and fiancé, promised he'd marry no one but me. But then, to help Jenny Swisher, my adoptive sister, get through her depression, he secretly married her. I didn't hesitate for a second before agreeing to marry Conrad Lennon, Jasselton's most untouchable heir, who'd been in love with me for years. After seven years of marriage, he still spoiled me rotten. He clung to me every night like he couldn't get enough. And there was nothing he wouldn't do for me. I really thought I'd found happiness at last. But one day, after we'd slept together, I heard him talking to his best friend. "Jenny's an international best actress now. When are you dumping Jean?" "It doesn't matter. I wouldn't end up with the person I love either way. Besides, I have to keep an eye on Jean. I can't let her ruin all the happiness Jenny worked so hard for." I booted up the computer in Conrad's study and stumbled upon a hidden folder. Inside were over 100,000 photos of Jenny, plus 100 unsent love letters. I'd been fooling myself long enough. It was time to wake up. I got myself a fake body and got ready to start a fire. That was it. Conrad and I were done for good.

In the past, my sister, Harper Summit, and I married the Rex twins, Murray and Craig, who were capos in the Luciano family, a mafia crime syndicate. On our third wedding anniversary, Harper and I accidentally stumbled upon the brothers’ secret base. Every wall inside was covered with photos of their adopted sister, Lucy Rex. Only then did we realize that it was Lucy they truly loved. The next day, their enemies came for revenge. Lucy and I were both kidnapped while Harper managed to escape. The kidnappers called my husband, Murray, and demanded to know who mattered most to him. To save Lucy, Murray lied without hesitation and told them it was me. As expected, Lucy was released, and I was subjected to brutal torture. When I was on the verge of death, the only one who rushed to save me was Harper. She dragged my severely injured body into a basement and tearfully called her husband, Craig. When Craig finally answered, he said, “Don’t disturb me. Lulu’s in shock. I need to be with her.” Right after he hung up, the kidnappers broke in and brutally murdered us in that pitch-dark basement. When I opened my eyes again, both Harper and I had returned to the past. Our mother asked us who we wished to marry in the arranged alliances. We glanced at each other. Without even discussing it, we understood what we needed to do. This time, neither of us chose the Rex family. When Murray and Craig saw us two sisters in wedding dresses, marrying the twin brothers of the Luciano family, they completely lost their minds.

Three years ago, my father marries me off to Evan Blackwell, the CEO of Blackwell Group, for the family's interests. Everyone thinks I'm done for because Evan is known for being ruthless and cruel. Yet, he's nothing but gentle to me, and he never raises his voice at me. He even has my initials, SH, tattooed on his chest. Every year on our anniversary, fireworks bloom across the city right on the dot. They spell out my name and the loving words he dedicates to me. On our third anniversary, the fireworks suddenly replace my name, Selena Holloway, with Serena Harroway. Before I can ask about it, Evan immediately calls his subordinates and tears into them. "What's going on? How could you mess up my wife's name? Do you want to lose your jobs?" I hastily tell him it's fine and that the thought is what truly matters. In the end, he lets them off the hook. However, he pushes me until my legs are shaking and my voice is gone that night. When I wake from the night that leaves my whole body humming, he's already seated at his desk and buried in work. He asks me to grab a folder for him, yet I open the wrong drawer and stumble upon an old photo album. It contains intimate photos of him and a young woman who looks strikingly like me. There's a confession on the back of every single picture. "I miss you so much, Serena."

After graduation, I struggle to find a job, while my girlfriend easily lands a position at a major company. She has been with me for two years, and to cheer me up, she even lets me hold onto her payroll card. Once I finally start working, she worries about my long commute and immediately buys me a car. Everyone around us envies me for having such a thoughtful girlfriend. To save up for a house, I secretly deposit my salary into her account. A year later, we decide to get married. Excited, she grabs my hand and says, "I know you don't have much saved. I don't need any wedding gift. All I want is your love." I am deeply touched by her consideration. But on our engagement day, she pulls out photos of me with a dozen women and accuses me of cheating. I look closely and realize I have never even met any of them. Then she shows me my card's transaction history, filled with charges at the notorious Solara Club. "You had my payroll card, and you used my money to indulge yourself!" she cries. "I'm not marrying you. Return my car and all the money you spent over the years. It adds up to 800 thousand dollars." I calmly place the payroll card she gave me on the table and say with a smirk, "Fine, let's settle this properly." When I present the detailed account prepared by my top lawyer, she is stunned.

After working abroad for several years, I returned home, only to have my parents arrange a blind date for me. He was tall and strikingly handsome, honest in character, steady in demeanor, and came from an excellent family background. In short, the perfect candidate for a husband. I told myself that sooner or later, marriage was inevitable, so I settled on him. The day before the wedding, I went to the church—only to be stunned by the sight before me. The entire place had been transformed into something sinister and grotesque. The walls were plastered with terrifying photos of corpses, the floor littered with wax figures of severed arms and legs, and even the flowers had been dyed black, dripping with blood-red stains. But the most infuriating part was the image hanging right at the center of the church—an AI-generated picture of me, pinned beneath my fiancé, as he whipped me. My whole body trembled with fury. I stormed at the staff still working on the decorations, ordering them to stop immediately. Just then, his best friend, Nina Cullen, walked in. "Don't stop. Yves prefers this wedding style." I froze, staring at her in disbelief. "How is that possible? Who in their right mind would decorate something as joyous as a wedding with gore? This is insane!" Nina only gave a cold, arrogant laugh. "That's the theme. If you want to marry him, you'll have to accept it." Speechless, I immediately called Yves. "Yves, I'm not interested in getting married in a haunted house. You'd better restore the church to normal; otherwise, this wedding is off."

Back when we were still in love, I heard from someone else that Charlie Grant had been getting unusually close to his secretary. He never offered an explanation. He let me dig for the truth on my own. Over the past five years, I quietly collected countless photos of them together—having lunch, leaving late-night meetings, even traveling for business—but none of them offered conclusive proof of cheating. Until the day he proposed to me. There was a giant screen set up. It was supposed to play a romantic video Charlie had prepared just for the proposal, but the screen suddenly cut to something else. A video of Charlie at a hospital, standing beside his secretary as she underwent a pregnancy check-up. In the video, the doctor clearly referred to Charlie as her husband… and the father of her child. His secretary burst into tears on the spot and apologized to me repeatedly. She sobbed as though she were the victim. Charlie, however, stood there with a cold expression and said flatly, "She's an unwed mother. She was helpless. I was just accompanying her for the checkup. The doctor must've misunderstood." Everyone braced for a dramatic scene. However, I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I only reached up and slowly removed the delicate flower hairpiece from my head. I set the hairpiece down. Then I looked Charlie in the eyes and spoke calmly. "You're right. It is sad that she’s pregnant and all alone. "This marriage proposal was meant for her. Not me." I gave a faint smile. "May you enjoy a blissful life. And… congratulations on the baby."

On the day I came of age, my grandfather, Wilson Saddler, laid out photos of the most eligible bachelors from elite families in the capital, asking me to choose one for an arranged marriage. Without hesitation, I chose the eldest son of the Sullivan family, Ethan Sullivan. Everyone present was stunned. After all, everyone in our circle knew that I, Sabrina Saddler, eldest daughter of the powerful Saddler family, had always liked Aaron Johansen, the young heir of the Johansen family. Ever since I was little, I’d followed Aaron around, declaring I would marry him when I grew up. In my previous life, I did marry Aaron as I wished. But after the wedding, he told me he had always loved my younger sister, Rachel Saddler, and would remain a virgin for her. He made me sleep alone for three months. When my father found out, he married Rachel off to the son of a business partner. Aaron thought I was the one who meddled and forced Rachel to leave. From then on, he stayed out every night, indulging in nightlife, sometimes even flaunting women in front of me. In the end, I was pushed into traffic by Rachel and Aaron, and I died at an intersection. Given a second chance at life, I decided to stay far away from him. I gave him and Rachel my blessing. I never expected that at my engagement party with Ethan, he would completely lose control and try to crash the wedding.

Tout le monde savait que Thibault Dubois, autrefois le jeune libertin le plus célèbre d'Étoilebourg, avait toujours été épris de la brillante jeune fille, Océane Lefevre, avec qui il avait grandi. Peu de temps après leur mariage, un accident de voiture les avait séparés : Océane était devenue une personne végétative et Thibault avait perdu la mémoire. Lorsque Océane s'est réveillée finalement, deux années s'étaient déjà écoulées. À ce moment-là, Thibault était déjà avec une autre femme. Pire encore, pour cette autre femme, Thibault avait diffusé des photos nues d'Océane à l'Université Lumière d'Émeraude, la forçant ainsi à divorcer. Déçue, Océane est partie. Cinq ans plus tard. Au moment où Océane se remariait, Thibault est apparu en pleurant devant chez elle. « Océane, je me suis souvenu de tout, tu ne peux pas épouser quelqu'un d'autre ! » « Maman, tu ne peux pas parler à d'autres oncles, papa sera jaloux ! », a dit un enfant adorable, tendant la main à Gaspard Leroux qui descendait de la voiture. « Papa, câlin ! »

Après dix ans d'amour, mon fiancé Lucien Dubois a enfin accepté de m'épouser. Mais quand on prenait des photos de mariage, le photographe a demandé quelques clichés de baisers, il a froncé les sourcils, a parlé de sa prétendue obsession de propreté, m'a repoussée et est parti seul. J'ai présenté des excuses, gênée, aux membres de l'équipe. Par ce jour de forte neige, il était impossible de trouver un taxi. J'ai marché avec peine dans l'épaisse couche de neige, avançant pas à pas jusqu'à la maison. Mais par la fenêtre, j'ai surpris Lucien serrant son premier amour dans ses bras et l'embrassant avec une ardeur interminable. « Isabelle, il me suffirait d'un mot de toi pour que je fuie ce mariage ! » Mes années de fidélité et d'attente se sont effondrées, tournées en dérision. Après avoir pleuré toutes mes larmes, j'ai choisi de fuir avant lui. Plus tard, dans tout notre cercle, la rumeur a couru. On disait que le jeune maître de la famille des Dubois avait parcouru le monde à la recherche de son ancienne fiancée, implorant son retour.